


can't you see i'm trying

by beantow



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: College AU, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, Friends With Benefits, Smut, adora transfers from a military academy, it starts off mostly physical and grows emotional, rugby au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:28:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 41,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25043917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beantow/pseuds/beantow
Summary: Rugby. Military. Those two things have always been the most important things in Adora's life until she realizes she no longer wants to support the military institution. When she transfers from Horde Academy to University of Etheria, she's not sure how she'll adjust, but at least she can still play rugby, so things can't go too poorly, can they?Can they?ORthe catradora college rugby au
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra)
Comments: 134
Kudos: 502





	1. Chapter 1

Adora’s up early, jogging back and forth across the field before morning practice starts at 7 AM. She’s already covered in a layer of sweat and her legs are a little sore, but there really wasn’t anything else that could get her mind off of things.

Of course she’s nervous—she’s only ever met some of these girls on the field, not as teammates, but as opponents, as foes playing for different teams. Even without any of them knowing her personally, there was no doubt in Adora’s mind that her new teammates would have preconceived notions about her as a person and a player.

She glances at her watch. Five minutes until practice. She sits on one of the bleachers and looks out at the field.

Open fields sometimes made her nervous, especially when they were so silent and she was the only one around. A lump catches in her throat, but she closes her eyes and swallows it, focusing on her breathing as she feels her chest constrict.

“Hey!” A lighthearted, friendly voice belonging to a girl with pink hair pulls her out of her trance. “You alright?”

It’s only then that Adora realizes she’s dizzy from holding her breath. She lets it go, and the color returns to her face. “Yeah, yeah, it’s fine.”

“Are you the transfer from Horde Academy?”

Adora grimaces at the mention of her old school, but she forces a smile. “Yes. Adora. Nice to meet you,” she says, sticking her hand out towards this girl.

She accepts it, her hand soft in contrast to Adora’s calloused palms. “Glimmer. We’re excited to have you on our team.”

“That—” Adora looks away. “That’s good. I’m excited to play with you guys.”

“Hey, hey, who’s this new face?” says another friendly voice, coming from behind her. She whips her head around and sees a tall boy wearing a homemade crop top, his midriff exposed even in the cold fall morning. “I’m Bow, by the way, one of the team’s managers.”

“Adora.” They shake hands and exchange simple nods, acknowledging each other’s presence. “Where is everyone?” The field is still mostly empty, and it’s just the three of them by the bleachers. There’s no sign of Coach Angella or Coach Micah, and she rubs the back of her neck, because maybe she messed up and today isn’t actually the first practice, and these two people are here because they’re here to kick her out of the field, and maybe she’s already done something wrong, and maybe her scholarship is about to get revoked, and maybe Coach Weaver was right, maybe—

“Adora. Adora!”

“Huh?” Adora yelps, standing up abruptly. “Sorry, I’m just. I’m just nervous.”

“It’s okay.” Bow smiles and sits on the bleachers next to her. She lets out a breath and sits down. “Everyone’s excited to meet you.”

“Really?”

“Really.” She trusts this boy already, which feels strange considering that they’d only met a few minutes, really moments ago. His eyes, his smile – there was nothing false about it, especially not that little twinkle in his eyes.

“Really,” Glimmer agrees. She pauses. “Well, one of our teammates might be a little…”

Anxiety grips Adora’s chest again. “A little…”

“She’s…” Glimmer sighs. “She’s difficult, but she’ll warm up to you.”

Adora chuckles nervously. “Yeah, I hope so.”

A few girls step onto the field and begin stretching and warming up, forming little circles and chatting while doing lunges and twisting their torsos. They all glance over at her and wave, giving her a warm smile as well. Adora smiles back, her shoulders relaxing a little. Coach Micah and Coach Angella walk towards her with a friendly grin.

“Adora! Glad to see you made it!” says Coach Micah, the edges of his eyes crinkling as he greets her.

She immediately stands up taller and salutes him reflexively. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world, sir!” she barks. Everyone stares at her, whispering a little among each other. Her face flushes with heat and she drops her head. “Sorry, I’m…still getting used to things.”

“It’s okay, Adora,” Angella’s rich voice calms her. “It takes time.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” Adora dips her head in respect before she realizes that she doesn’t need to. Embarrassed, she walks towards the other girls.

Just then, something – someone – brushes past her quickly and collides with her shoulder, nearly knocking her over.

“Watch it,” the other person hisses, giving her a dirty glance over her shoulder.

“Sorry,” Adora mumbles. She walks over to a blue-haired girl with powerful, broad shoulders, who stands with a few other girls, staring at all of them with a nonchalant expression. “Hey. Name’s Adora.” She sticks her hand out.

The blue-haired girl turns to her with an amused look on her face. She takes Adora’s hand and gives it a curt squeeze. “Who are you exactly?”

“Number 8. So your new 8 man. Or woman, I guess.”

“We’re so excited to have you on the team!” says a huge, muscular girl with short bleached hair. Adora glances at her shoulders and instantly feels the need to go hit the gym, but the girl’s got such a friendly, inviting grin that the insecurity leaves as quickly as it came. “I’m Scorpia.”

“I’m Frosta,” says a girl with a bob and intense eyes. She’s got her fists clenched, showing off her knuckles. From the looks of it, this girl gets into a lot of fights. Adora makes a mental note to stay on her good side. “First year. Flanker.”

“And I’m Mermista,” says the blue-haired girl, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms. “Like, I guess it’s pretty cool you’re here now. We hate Horde Academy.”

“Yeah!” Frosta yells. “Horde sucks!”

“Sure does,” Adora chuckles. 

“Hey, you should come to the social tonight!” Scorpia says. “Come by the rugby haus and get to know everyone. I promise it’ll be fun!”

“The rugby haus? What time? Should I bring anything?”

“We’ll send the details in the group chat later. Here, give me your phone number, let’s add you in!” Scorpia pulls her phone out and quickly makes a new contact for Adora. “I can’t believe you aren’t in this chat already. Oh, boy, you’re going to have so much fun here.”

Scorpia is a little intense for Adora, but she’s so kind and friendly and welcoming that she doesn’t feel intimidated by her at all. She is a great hugger, and she...she makes Adora feel wanted here. 

“What’s her deal?” Adora gestures to the girl who shoulder-checked her earlier. 

“Oh, Catra?” Scorpia’s face grows a little red. “She, um…”

“Catra? She’s harmless,” Mermista jumps in. “Like, mostly. Just, ugh, don’t get into weird drama with her, I guess.”

“I don’t plan on it.”

“Have I mentioned how excited I am that you’re here?” Scorpia says again.

A shrill whistle tweets. “Alright, girls, line up!” Coach Micah orders. “Welcome our new first-year recruits, Frosta and Entrapta, and our transfer recruit, Adora!”

All of the girls all line up at the end line and whoop in excitement.

All but Catra, who simply scowls at Adora.

This was going to be a long morning.

~

Catra recognized Adora the moment she stepped onto the field at morning practice. Those shoulders, that stance—even without the uniform on, she’d recognize her anywhere now, and she had no intention of making her feel welcome. 

At least, not yet. 

As much as Catra tries to ignore her, that girl is impossible not to notice. She’s beautiful and handsome at the same time, the way her golden hair frames her face, even with the stupid little poof on top. Her body’s absolutely _sculpted_ ; the way her shoulders, biceps, and forearms flex with every twist of her body, and the way her thighs and calves ripple with each step…it’s distracting, to say the least.

Today’s practice is mostly sprints. She’s grateful, since sprinting is _her_ thing and it’s easier relative to some of the other things Micah and Angella have had them do for morning practice. 

Mostly, she’s glad she didn’t really have to interact with Adora or any of her other teammates, who already seemed to not mind her.

Ugh.

Practice ends without much drama, and she’s joined by Mermista just as she turns to go back to the Rugby Haus.

“Hey, loser. Want to grab breakfast at the Dub?”

The mention of the dining hall—the Whispering Woods Hall, loving nicknamed the Dub—makes her stomach grumble. Her mouth waters at the thought of the melt-in-your-mouth chocolate chip pancakes and fluffy scrambled eggs waiting there. “Oh, hell yeah. Let’s do it. Is Perfuma coming?”

“Naw, she and Scorpia are going to back to the Haus for team breakfast.” Mermista pauses and nudges Catra. “You should come more often.”

Catra chuckles. “Listen, you know it’s not personal. The thought of having to go back to the Haus and _not_ going back to bed this early in the morning is just awful. Going to the Dub with you is an exception to my morning routine.”

Mermista rolls her eyes. “Whatever, loser. Also, what’s your beef with Adora?”

“What?” Catra whips her head towards her and hisses. “What beef?”

“Girl, I know you’ve got like, issues you’re dealing with, and like, yeah, she’s from the Horde, but this is weird, even for you.”

She bites down on her tongue a little. “I just don’t like her.”

“Is it because she gave you that concussion last season?”

“No!” Catra snarls. She crosses her arms as they continue walking. “Maybe! I’m working through it.”

“Okay, so just so we’re clear, you hate her for no conceivable reason other than the fact that she gave you a concussion in a very contact heavy sport.”

“It’s not _no_ reason,” Catra argues. “My gut just tells me something about her is strange. Ugh, I don’t want to talk about it. Let’s just go to the Dub.”

She doesn’t really know how to explain that she’s seen the types of Adora before—the types that always need to one-up everyone, the types that need to know they’re the best, the types that just—

Catra crumples her hands into fists. She doesn’t need a repeat of high school in college. She came here specifically to avoid those kinds of people, to be free of that disgusting toxic mindset. She doesn’t need another person like that in her life.

She’s already made that mistake before.

~

Adora looks in the mirror and makes sure she looks presentable. She smooths out her button-up shirt and fixes her collar before tucking the shirt into her jeans. It felt weird, informal, to wear jeans to any sort of social function. Should she wear a tie and a blazer? No, no, normal college students didn’t do that, and this wasn’t really official.

But she wants to look good tonight, make it obvious that she cares to make an impression. This was the first time they’d actually see her for her and not just another sweaty student-athlete.

She takes a step back and looks at herself in the mirror. She looks a little too formal. She untucks her shirt and reaches for the baseball cap on her dresser. They didn’t really let them wear such casual caps like these at Horde Academy. It was considered disrespectful. Rude, even. Covering your eyes, obscuring any part of your identity as a cadet meant two hours in solitary.

But she’s not a cadet anymore. She’s just a college kid playing rugby, going to a rugby team social. She throws the cap on and walks out of the quiet apartment, stepping into the night and walking towards the address Mermista had sent the group chat.

She stops in front of the house Google Maps was telling her was her destination. It was a quaint little house, painted white and pastel blue, with a rocking chair on its porch and a couple of bushes by the driveway. Small flamingos decorate the lawn, keeping guard over the sidewalk.

They aren’t creepy, per se, but their glowing yellow eyes don’t incite the best sensation in her.

But Adora has endured worse and more unwelcoming waters. She shrugs and walks up to the front door, checking her phone a million times to make sure she’s got the time right. She puts her fist up to the door and raps on it three times.

A disgruntled looking Catra opens the door, stifling a yawn. Her hair is slicked back gently, save for a few stray hairs sticking up in the back. She’s wearing a leather jacket over a white crop top that exposes her midriff, and these tight blue jeans that hug her lean sprinter’s legs. She looks…cool. She’s handsome in a badass way, in the kind of way she’s always found attractive but intimidating.

When she looks back up at Catra, she sees her staring at her, her eyes somehow finding hers under the cap. She doesn’t look particularly happy to see her, but Adora smiles at her anyways. She still wants to be friendly with the team, still wants to make friends on the team if they’ll let her.

She can already tell that Catra dislikes her. But Catra’s scowl isn’t going to drive her away. No, she’s going to make this work, no matter what. She coughs and clears her throat, breaking the silence between them.

“Hey, Adora,” Catra greets her, glancing at her nails, stepping back and making room in the doorway. “You’re early.”

“It’s nine o’clock on the dot.”

“Exactly.”

Adora frowns at her. “What?”

Catra chuckles and walks into the Haus, leaving Adora alone in the doorway. 

She knows there were a bunch of rules that “normal people”—well, those not raised by the military—abided by, but if they had different rules for time, she wasn’t sure she wanted to be a part of it.

But she’s made her decision to leave that world. She was no longer a cadet, so maybe it would be worth taking some time to learn these rules, no matter how stupid. At least she has an iPhone and can be a part of the large group chat for the team.

The door opens into a common space with a TV set and couches equipped with questionable stains, and a beaten up table. To her left sits a kitchen and bar area, surprisingly neat for a bunch of college kids. At the end of the hallway lies another door—presumably the bathroom—and a set of staircases leading up and down.

“Woah, Adora,” says Mermista, bounding out of the kitchen and sticking her fist out towards her. “You made it!”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Adora chuckles, bumping her knuckles to Mermista’s. “Nice place you got here,” she gestures around the room. She points at the clear tub of red liquid on the kitchen floor. “I don’t want to know what that is.”

“Don’t even worry about it,” Mermista shrugs. “It’s just our signature tub juice. I put a whole handle of vodka in there tonight.”

“That’s intense. Is everyone over twenty-one?”

Mermista laughs. “Of course not. This is a sports house.”

Adora looks at her a little funny. She’s a little worried about getting caught being drunk at school because she really doesn’t want to find out what sort of disciplinary action the university gives, and she kind of needs to go to college to do anything she cares about, because it’s not really like she has anywhere else to go, and—

“Hey, you don’t have to drink if you don’t want to,” Mermista tells her. “We’re just here to have fun and to get to know each other. We won’t make you do anything you’re uncomfortable with.” Mermista let go of her shoulders.

“Thanks.” Adora gives a curt nod and walks down to the basement, where a bunch of her teammates are sitting in a circle on the floor.

~

Of _course_ she looks stunning, even at a casual social. Of _course_ she’s wearing a shirt that accentuates her strong frame and her beautiful eyes that somehow shine at her from beneath a hat. Of _fucking course_ Catra looks like an underdressed slob compared to the rest of her team, who are all wearing nicer shirts and skirts, and they’re naturally just more dolled up than she is.

She tries to push away the image of Adora’s muscular body from lift that day, the way the sweat dripped down each toned muscle, the way her veins stuck out and her tendons popped in and out with each rep of an exercise. No matter how hard she tried, every time she glanced at the girl, she couldn’t help but think about how firm those arms would feel. 

She should _not_ be this attracted to this slab of meat.

Catra grits her teeth and walks out of the bathroom and back to the basement. She knows they’re about to play Never Have I Ever, and she’s a little curious to see how darling Adora will handle this game. Would Adora even drink? Or was she just the little goody two-shoes who went to military school and couldn’t handle the pressure?

“Miss me?” she purrs, walking down into the basement, where a few of the girls were sipping the jungle juice.

“Wildcat! You’re back!” Scorpia runs over to her and immediately hugs her tightly, very nearly crushing the air out of her lungs.

“Woah, you’ve gotten so strong over the summer,” she comments as Scorpia puts her back down and releases her.

“Haha, yeah, I’ve been working out a lot...just a few sets a day...every day,” Scorpia says, shooting a nervous grin and scratching the back of her head, accidentally flexing her huge biceps. 

Catra returns the grin and fills up a cup of the red juice. “Alright, who are we waiting for?”

“Just the first-years and Sea Hawk. They should be coming back from their initiation soon,” says Perfuma, taking a sip and grimacing. “Geez, Mermista, the hell is in this?”

“Just a lot of vodka and cranberry juice,” shrugs Mermista, taking a huge gulp of it. “Oh, and a couple other things.”

They hear the door click open upstairs and a man begins to sing. Mermista groans. 

“We are finally heeerrreee!” the man sings dramatically. “The party has officially started!”

“We’re down here!” Scorpia yells up the stairs.

“Are we punching anything tonight?” Frosta screams, jumping down the stairs. “I’m so ready.”

“The technology in this house is so outdated,” Entrapta says, glancing all around. “What are these? Energy inefficient light bulbs? Just get some LEDs.”

Sea Hawk strokes his shiny mustache and grins at everyone. “I hope everyone is ready for adventure together! It is time for some team bonding!”

“Yeah, I guess, like, let’s go around and do names, pronouns, year, and position,” Mermista says. “I’ll start. Mermista, in case you didn’t know, she/her/hers, I’m a junior, and I’m a prop.”

Catra zones out until Adora starts talking. “Uh, hi, I’m the transfer from Horde Academy,” Adora starts, awkwardly waving at everyone. “Adora. She/her/hers. I’m also a junior, and I’m number 8.”

“Horde Academy, huh?” Sea Hawk says. “I remember when we went there and we absolutely crushed their team last fall. My dear Mermista took down three people at once, diving straight into a pack to protect dear Perfuma who had the ball.”

“Ugh, shut up, Sea Hawk,” Mermista groans. “No one needs to hear about that.”

“Though I do definitely remember their 8 man—er, woman—being quite fearsome. Must have been you.”

“That was probably me,” Adora chuckles lightly. “I’ve been on the starting lineup since freshman year.”

Catra rolls her eyes. She takes a drink from her cup. Of course everyone would fawn over her. They don’t even know her. Catra doesn’t need to know her to know she wants her to stay the fuck away.

She can feel the booze starting to kick in. Good. They’re almost done with icebreakers and things are going to get interesting.

~

Adora isn’t surprised that she’s still very sober when most of the team has had multiple drinks. This game—Never Have I Ever, as Mermista called it—is definitely more suited for those who grew up in homes that weren’t the military state. She didn’t exactly have the ability to get into mischief like the others girls seem to have been able to. 

It seems everyone is going easy on her tonight, but then again, she’s just met them. They wouldn’t know anything about her.

Catra has been giving her strange looks the entire time, even though she won’t ever meet her eyes. Adora’s not really sure what it means, at least up until it’s Catra’s turn.

“Never have I ever given anyone a concussion,” Catra says, a coy smile on her lips. 

“Wow, I wonder who that could’ve been for,” Mermista says, clearly tipsy.

Maybe that’s why Catra is being so cold and weird to her. But they do play rugby. It wasn’t like she was _trying_ to hurt her. She happened to be in the way when Adora was tackling another girl. 

Frosta takes a shot along with Adora. Catra’s looking right at Adora as she downs the shot. Adora ignores the burn in her throat and chokes it down. It’s not her first time drinking, but she’s never been much of a fan of the way straight shots feel.

The first time she ever drank...Adora shudders at the memory. She really doesn’t need to think about that right now. She’s with different people now, and these people don’t seem like the same kind of people from the Academy.

It’s her turn now. “Never have I ever held a grudge against someone for an injury from a contact sport.” If Catra’s going to play dirty, so is she.

The room grows silent for a moment before people start whispering with each other.

“Damn, okay, Adora,” Scorpia says. 

Catra takes a shot and looks at her, raising her eyebrows and challenging her. 

“Never have I ever shown up to a party on the dot.”

Adora takes a shot. She’s got to think of something to get back at her. 

“Never have I ever been unwelcoming to a new transfer recruit.”

Catra scoffs. “I haven’t been unwelcoming.”

Adora smirks. “I didn’t say it was you.”

“Oh shit!” Glimmer says, laughing. 

“Good job, you played yourself,” Mermista pipes in.

“Oh, wildcat, you know you have to take the shot,” Scorpia says. “Do you want me to take it for you?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Catra says, effortlessly downing another. Adora swears she catches her eye twitch, but from the coy smile she’s giving her, she almost forgets it. 

She can feel the alcohol starting to flow through her system. Everything’s just a little bit more silly, every sensation lingers a little longer, and her face is a little bit warmer than usual. 

A part of her wants to go talk to Catra for real, get to know her, understand maybe why she’s being so cold to her. Another part of her really wants to go wrap an arm around her, pull her face close, and kiss her. But she shakes her head and keeps playing the game.

~

Catra loves a good challenge, and Adora is giving her a run for her money. She’s not exactly as boring and terrible as she assumed she’d be. She’s feeling pleasantly drunk—conscious but floaty, and definitely feeling like making some decisions she usually wouldn’t. 

Once the game is over and most people are delightfully drunk, Catra walks over to where Adora’s standing with Bow and Glimmer.

“So you guys are also juniors?” she hears Adora ask them.

“Yep,” Bow says enthusiastically. “I’m really glad you’re with us now.”

“Me too,” Glimmer joins in. “Where are you living this year?”

“Off-campus,” Adora answers. “Took forever to convince them, but explaining the whole ‘I was a child soldier and dorm life would be bad for me’ thing worked.”

“I’m glad you got accommodations,” Bow says. “Oh, hey, Catra.” 

She nods at Bow and Glimmer. “Hey, Adora,” she says, giving her a smirk. “You actually kept up with me.”

“Surprised?” Adora turns to her. 

“A little,” Catra teases. “Didn’t realize you knew how to take a shot.”

Bow and Glimmer have left, and it’s just the two of them in the corner of the basement. Catra feels this urge to get closer to Adora. She leans in a little and brushes her fingers across Adora’s arm, feeling how she shudders a little at the touch.

“Didn’t realize you were still hung up on that concussion,” Adora chuckles, clearly a little looser than she was at the start of the night.

Catra scoffs. “Can’t believe you forgot.”

“I never forgot.”

“You never apologized.”

“It’s rugby,” Adora shrugs. “Injuries happen.”

Catra narrows her eyes at her. “This one happened because _you_ weren’t playing the game properly.”

“Maybe you should have just watched the field better,” Adora says. 

Catra shoves her by the shoulders. “If you hadn’t come crashing in like an ox it wouldn’t have happened.” She shoves her again. “Trying to play the hero of the game _again_ , like always, trying to be the best player on the field.” She shakes her head at the girl. “How the _hell_ did you come out of that uninjured?”

Adora brushes off her shoulders and smoothes out her shirt before backing up a little. “Listen, I was just playing the game the way I know how to play. And if you’re looking for an apology or something, just ask.” She crosses her arms and raises an eyebrow at Catra.

Catra rolls her eyes. “I don’t want an apology.”

“Good, you’re not getting one.”

“You’re so infuriating!” Catra yells at her, pushing Adora against the wall.

“Have you met yourself?” Adora yells back.

They stare at each other. Catra watches as Adora wets her bottom lip with her tongue, and she feels like she most definitely shouldn’t do this, but before she knows it, she’s pressing Adora into the wall and pressing her lips against hers, holding onto Adora’s jaw with one hand and pushing her shoulder with the other. Adora’s frozen against her for a moment, but her hands grab the back of Catra’s head and pull her closer. Her throat rumbles with a soft groan, and she hates that this feels good, because she wants nothing to do with this girl, and yet...yet she can’t pull away.

She feels her mouth part a little and Adora’s tongue slips in, brushing over hers. Their breaths both taste of cheap vodka and cranberry juice, but the alcohol isn’t even half as intoxicating as the sensation of their lips moving against each other and their bodies pressing impossibly close in the corner.

Catra pulls away briefly. Adora’s eyes shimmer with confusion and lust all the same, and they watch each other carefully.

“This is not because I like you.” Catra grabs Adora’s wrist and takes her out of the basement and up to her room. 

The moment she closes the door behind her she backs into a wall and pulls Adora to her, pressing close again. She traces a finger on Adora’s stomach and feels just how muscular the girl is. The other girl grabs her hand and puts it flat against her entire abdomen, and maybe it’s because Catra’s drunk, but it sends a thrill through her body like she’s never known. 

Suddenly, Adora pulls away from her, and she’s a little concerned until she looks into Adora’s eyes, which have gone dark from something she’ll assume is lust. She smirks at her. It’s nice to feel wanted. Catra opens her mouth to say something witty, but instead a groan escapes her tongue as Adora’s lips plant themselves on her neck, her teeth teasing at the sensitive skin.

 _It only feels so good because I’m drunk,_ she tells herself as she guides them towards her bed. The back of Adora’s knees buckle and Catra lands on top of her, straddling her hips. She sits up to pull her shirt off, showing off her own toned body. She watches Adora swallow as she gazes up and down her torso, her eyes grazing every inch of skin she’s showing off. 

Adora sits up herself, and Catra starts unbuttoning her shirt, revealing the very prominent muscles of her upper body, which are somehow even more defined than Catra thought. She tosses her shirt across the room.  Her hands land on Catra’s hips, and Catra’s surprised by how gentle her grip can be with arms like those. With Catra sitting on her lap like this, she’s only ever so slightly taller than Adora. She leans down and plants a kiss on Adora’s shoulder and makes her way towards Adora’s neck, nipping gently and sucking a little less gently. She pulls back and she can already see the skin turning bluish. Satisfied, she grinds her hips down on Adora’s, ecliting a groan from both of them.

“Not because you like me, huh?” Adora teases her.

Catra hisses and pushes Adora back town so she’s lying on her back. She hovers over the girl’s face before leaning down to her ear. “Don’t get your hopes up,” she says, letting out a ragged breath across her ear before leaning a little further and kissing the spot just behind her earlobe. Adora’s grip on her hips tightens briefly before her hands travel upwards to her back, her fingers ghosting over the clasp on Catra’s bra. She hesitates for a moment and lets Catra undo it herself. Catra tosses the bra across the room and smirks at Adora. “Fair’s fair, princess.”

Adora returns the smirk and keeps her gaze on Catra’s eyes as she reaches back. She feels Adora’s abs tighten under her as she barely lifts her torso to undo her bra. It’s incredibly hot, even though Catra wouldn’t tell her, and she stops herself from drooling all over Adora’s body as she drinks in the sight in front of her. 

“Like what you see?” Adora grins at her.

“Getting cocky, huh?” Catra snarks. “Figures.”

With no small athletic feat, Adora flips them over so that Adora’s eyes are piercing down at her. She grows ever warmer, and whether it’s the alcohol or Adora’s hungry gaze, she’s not completely sure. Adora starts kissing her again, rougher than before, and slots her strong thigh between Catra’s legs and grinds against her. She lets herself release all the sounds her throat makes when Adora’s mouth reaches her chest and her warm, wet tongue circles a nipple. 

Before she knows it, she’s taking off her pants and underwear. Adora looks at her with a strange look in her eyes. 

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Adora asks her, her voice a little husky in a way that makes Catra shudder. “And don’t be snarky. I’m not doing this if you have _any_ doubts whatsoever.”

Catra nearly rolls her eyes, but she appreciates the concern and actually gives her a small smile. “Yeah, I want to do this.” _Even sober Catra would want to._

Adora snorts and Catra realizes she’s said it out loud. She hisses at Adora before pulling her in for another searing kiss. Adora’s fingers brush against her inner thigh, and Catra lets out a soft whine when they climb up to her entrance and start circling softly, with not nearly enough pressure to satisfy her. She bucks against them, and Adora just gives her a sly smile and continues teasing her before pushing into Catra with a gentle but strong finger.

“Does that feel good?” Adora asks. Catra moans as it goes in and lets out a soft cry as Adora hits the sensitive spot inside of her, pushing at it and pulling out.

“God, why do you have to be so _fucking_ good at everything?” Catra groans, gripping the sheets beneath her. “And why do you have to be so _fucking_ —” Catra gasps and stick her fingers into Adora’s hair, tugging at them. 

Their eyes meet. Adora shifts so she’s kneeling between her legs, and Catra watches and feels how she stretches and flexes against Adora’s fingers. There’s an intense heat between them—even drunk, she can tell there’s something there, and she doesn’t really want to know what. It’s then that Adora breaks their staring contest and puts her mouth directly above where her fingers are entering Catra. Catra rolls her eyes back as Adora’s tongue swipes across her clit and sucks on the sensitive flesh. She digs into Adora’s head and pulls her head closer in between her legs. With the rhythm Adora was going at, the regular licking and the press inside of her, she’s not far from finishing.

“Oh my god,” Catra mumbles, feeling the pressure build up inside of her.

“What was that?” Adora pulls away, her face slick.

She cries out, her climax just teetering over the edge. She’s holding on, trying to make it last a little longer, but she feels Adora’s fingers sink in one last time and she releases. Her body tenses for a moment, her legs trying to pull themselves closed but being pried open by Adora’s strong arms. She looks up and sees Adora’s gorgeous face still buried between her legs and quickly looks away, not wanting to fall into another trance. 

It’s kind of embarrassing how quickly she came for Adora. “Come here,” Catra tells Adora. She pulls Adora for another wet kiss, this time tasting herself on Adora’s tongue. Her hand crawls towards Adora’s crotch, but Adora pulls away from her and shakes her head. Catra frowns.

“What can I do for you?” Catra asks her. Even if she didn’t like Adora much, she wants to make her cum just like she did for her. She wants to look down at Adora and know that she made her melt, made her lose control.

Adora looks surprised. “Uh…”

“I want to get you off.”

“I...I don’t know,” Adora admits to her. “It-it’s not you, don’t worry. It’s just. No one’s asked me before.”

“Oh.” Catra frowns. For once, she’s actually out of witty remarks to share. “Do you want me to go down on you?” she offers.

She shakes her head and climbs off the bed. “I, um, I should actually get going,” she mutters, quickly putting on her bra and shirt. “Um. Thanks? I guess? Good night, Catra,” she says, exiting the room.

“Good night, Adora,” Catra says, tugging her underwear and shirt back on and heading to the bathroom to get ready for bed.

That was strange. Maybe Adora’s just not feeling like getting off tonight? Catra sighs as warm water hits her back. She really shouldn’t care, but something about the way Adora left so quickly doesn’t feel quite right in her chest. Maybe she’s just disappointed she couldn’t get her to come apart like Adora made her.

They’ll...have to talk about it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of hooking up. Catra and Adora think about their pasts and think about how they'll move forward. 
> 
> (Adora talks food, Bow has great timing, and Glimmer calls Catra out on her bullshit.)

Why did she run?

It’s true that no one had asked Adora what she wanted before. The few girls she’d hooked up with before had wanted her to do all the work, and they’d never asked to reciprocate. She just stopped asking people to do anything for her, especially when she could just take care of it herself afterwards. And the minute Catra asked, she ran?

She kicks away the comforter and lets the cool air wash over her. She drank a lot tonight, sure, but she’d been fully conscious the entire time. Maybe a little tipsy, a little loose, but nothing her body can’t handle. 

Wow, she  _ really _ hadn’t missed the taste of vodka. No matter what it was mixed with, it was always terrible. Efficient, sure, but not at all smooth going down.

She was hoping that the alcohol would make it easier to fall asleep, but there’s too much going on in her head right now. 

She’d just hooked up with her teammate at the first social, after the first day of practice with a team full of people with whom she’d never had a proper conversation before today. She let out a breath.

That’s a lot to unpack.

Who decided to have a social after the first day of preseason, anyways? And on a Monday night? When they were going to have practice the morning after?

At least she likes her new teammates. Hanging out with them had been really fun. She, of course, hadn’t suspected that the night was going to take the turn it did, even when Catra had come over and started talking to her. She thought she was there to legitimately talk to her, but given how small Catra is, and given how Never Have I Ever went…

Never would she have ever thought she’d hook up with a girl to whom she gave a concussion. 

She  _ is _ sorry about giving Catra a concussion, but she sticks by everything else she said to Catra. It is rugby, after all. 

Not that she didn’t have a point. Being at the Academy may have made her a more powerful player, but it had also made her more reckless and aggressive. She wasn’t always like that, but she supposes that it’s inevitable when her coach is Shadow Weaver, who doesn’t really care about the players as people and more as bodies that are in the way.

Maybe it was time to start unlearning that, but that would take time. 

She closes her eyes and gently drums her fingers on her chest one by one, trying to recall the night properly. Catra kissed her, then they went upstairs, and then things escalated really quickly. 

She touches her lips and runs her thumb over her bottom lip, where Catra first kissed her. Even though she hadn’t expected it, even if she hadn’t been the one to initiate it, she’d loved it. Kissing Catra felt like nothing she’d ever done before. It was wild. It was passionate. It was fueled by something that wasn’t just obedience or obligation. It felt real. 

She loved how freely Catra’s hands had moved to touch her, she loved the tingles that’d jolt through her body at every gentle caress of her fingers. And being able to make that girl cum? Within minutes? 

Every one of Catra’s moans and noises had been music to her ears. It was an anthem playing over and over in her head. She’d done that to her. She’d been able to give that to her. 

If she liked doing it so much, why did she run?

Adora grabs a pillow and presses it over her face. She needs to go to sleep. She doesn’t have the energy to think about this any more, not when she has to get up early for practice. 

Practice. 

Tomorrow.

In less than eight hours from now.

It hits her then, that she’s going to have to see Catra tomorrow morning. And later that day. And every day after that. 

She groans and pulls the covers over her head. As long as the rest of the preseason and the semester isn’t like this, she thinks, then she’ll be fine. Maybe. Hopefully. She has to be.

~

It’s not the pounding headache that gets Catra out of the bed the next morning, or the insistent alarm that keeps going off by her head. It’s her own damn memory, reminding her of Adora’s gentle and firm touches everywhere. She remembers Adora pressing her into the bed and sucking her neck, and she also remembers that she needs to be at the field in less than fifteen minutes.

“Shit,” she hisses. She jumps out of the bed and heads to the mirror on her dresser. Catra pulls the collar of her shirt down and sticks her neck out to see the damage. Blue and purple spots cover the entire sided of her neck, trailing down to her collarbone. She should’ve dealt with these last night, but  _ no _ , she was too busy trying to process what had happened that she forgot to handle the physical markers of her...mistake?

Was it a mistake? 

Catra stares at the mirror and groans. What’s worse: going to practice with no effort to hide these hickies, proudly showing them off to all of her teammates and her coaches, or trying to use makeup to hide it, and have everyone question why she has makeup on her neck, in which case everyone  _ also _ knows that she’s covering up hickies?

She doesn’t even have concealer, so she throws that option out the window. She pulls on a shirt with a tighter collar and throws on the rest of her clothes.

Would she and Adora talk about it?

Would this happen again?

She doesn’t regret any of it, that’s for sure. It was fun. It felt great. 

Catra gets dressed for practice and grabs her drawstring bag. The rest of the haus is bustling with talk and movement and she really doesn’t want to be a subject or an object of it. She opens her door and heads downstairs. Immediately she runs into Mermista, who glances at her neck and gives her a knowing look involving a smirk and an eyebrow raise. 

“Shut it,” Catra hisses, jabbing a finger at her.

Mermista simply crosses her arms. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she snickers. 

Catra rolls her eyes and grabs her water bottle and a granola bar from the kitchen before heading towards the door. “You coming?” she turns, facing Mermista. 

“Yeah, we’re just waiting for Scorpia and Glimmer.”

“Ugh, fine.” Catra rests her hand on her neck, trying to cover the evidence. “They’re not going to let me hear the end of it, are they?”

“The end of what?” Heavy steps bound down the stairs. Scorpia comes towards them, almost hitting her head on the beam. Her shirt fits tightly across her huge shoulders and chest. _She couldn’t be a better fit for a prop_ , Catra thinks, remembering how easily Scorpia plowed through all those girls on the field last season. “Oh! Last night was such a blast, it was _so nice_ to meet all the new folk, and especially fun watching that game of Never Have I Ever,” Scorpia babbles, brushing her hair back. Her gaze lands on Catra; first, on her face, then her neck, and then her eyes. “ _Oh,_ ” Scorpia says. “Someone had a good night. Was it that new girl, Ado—”

Catra leans in and puts her hands over Scorpia’s mouth. “Let’s just go to practice.”

Scorpia backs up and laughs. “Do you want concealer?”

“Since when do you—” Catra starts. She shakes her head and sighs. “No, it’s fine. I’ll live with it. I’m just going to go ahead before Glimmer sees me.”

“Before Glimmer sees who?” The pink haired girl joins them by the door. “Oh.  _ Oh. _ ”

“Come on, let’s just go,” Catra grumbles.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it, eh?” Glimmer teases her. “Good for you.”

“Shut up,” she says, feeling her face grow hotter. They exit the house and walk down the street to the field, where Mara, their captain and last haus member, catches up to them. She’s got a light sweat going from her morning jog, and she looks happy. 

“Hey guys!” Mara says, giving them a smile and wave. “Ready for practice?”

Scorpia gives her a salute. “As always, cap’n.”

“Sure, whatever,” Mermista says, though the shine in her eyes betray her nonchalance.

“Grumpy over here seems excited,” Mara says, looking at Catra, her gaze fixed only on her eyes. If she saw the hickies on her neck, she sure didn’t say anything about it. “And you didn’t burn down the house, did you, Glimmer?”

Glimmer grins. “Of course not. No fires today, Mara.”

“Good, good,” says their captain. 

The sun has barely risen when they get to the field, the light scattering through the morning mist. The grass is covered in a fine layer of dew, which gets obliterated the moment they step onto it. Catra wonders when the dew will freeze over the grass this year; last year, it had started as early as October, but by then they’d moved their practices inside, and most of their season was over, anyways, save for the finals.

She really likes winter, even if she complains about the cold. It’s perfect for curling up on the couch with a plush blanket and a cup of hot chocolate. If they really felt festive, the girls would put a log or two into the fireplace and let it warm up the living room, and they’d put on a movie or something. Catra usually didn’t watch whatever they put on, preferring to do her coding assignments instead, but she did like the ambiance that the fire and the movie cast over their house. 

She was grateful that she’d gotten dibs on her room at the end of freshman year. Catra hadn’t been expecting it at all, but Juliet claimed that she made the team better, and that living in the haus would make them a stronger team. She appreciated it a lot, and she was especially glad not to be living in the dormitories this year. Communal living was okay, and she enjoyed the proximity living on-campus gave her to all of her classes, but it was really nice not having to deal with a roommate whose sleep schedule was the complete inverse of her own.

Plus, being closer to the field meant an extra five or so minutes to sleep in.

Catra yawns and begins her warm-ups, stretching her arms, her legs, and being sure to twist her body and crack every bone she could. As she stretched, she spotted Adora across the field, by the bleachers, with Bow and Glimmer. Glimmer catches her eye and gives her a wink before turning back to Adora faster than Catra could flip her off. 

When she first met Glimmer freshman year, she’d hated her. She was all pink and flashy in the way that made Catra want to hurl, but after being on the field with her and having to play closely together as wingers, she grew to respect and understand her in a whole different way. Living together also brought them closer together—at the cost of a few broken chairs—and they never did small talk, only indulging in the larger, worldly things, which Catra appreciated. She was definitely one of Catra’s closest friends.

Actually, there wasn’t a single person in the haus who she wouldn’t consider a close friend. Even Mara, who usually kept to herself, her studies, and rugby, was someone she trusted. It was a nice change from her life with her birth family, who didn’t really seem to give two shits about her. She knew she still had a lot to unlearn from that life, all the toxic behavior that her parents had instilled in her, but being around the girls—who she considered her true family—helped a lot. Therapy helped, too, especially with unpacking the abandonment issues and growing to be less defensive, two of many issues gifted to her by her aforementioned generous parents.

A whistle blows and Coach Angella waves them over. “Alright, girls, we’ll start off with a few sprints, then we’ll separate into forwards and backs! Let’s go!”

Catra lets out a sigh of relief. She wouldn’t have to deal with Adora just yet.

~

The hustle and bustle of the dining hall still stuns Adora every time she enters. There are no guards standing by the doors, waiting with batons in their hands, ready to strike any cadet who wasn’t standing in line quite silently enough. They’re also allowed to have their backpacks in the dining hall, which is new. 

Not to mention the food. Adora  _ loves _ the food. After years of military school, and then Horde Academy, her taste buds had laid dormant for far too long. Even one bite of the chicken breast at the Dub has more seasoning than a whole meal back at the Academy, and it gave her tastebuds a high she didn’t realize was possible. When she first tried the eggplant parmesan they served there, she’d taken a whole half hour to savor her first bite.

The biggest shock for her is definitely the casual nature of the team meals. She’d been used to team meals with her fellow cadets which were near-silent, save for the occasional talk of the team schedule. Their coach had always sat with them. Adora shuddered at the memory of her old coach Shadow Weaver. She’d always insisted on sitting right next to Adora during these team meals, her piercing gaze always watching over Adora, monitoring her, trapping her, paralyzing her. She’d always look down at Adora’s plate and comment on the portion, always telling her this and that about nutrition. Adora had always dreaded team meals, and she’d usually just grab a granola bar or sandwich and eat in her own time to avoid her as much as possible. 

But sitting here, at this creaky old table in worn down chairs, surrounded by the laughter of her teammates and the other sports teams in the dining hall...she feels calm. A little part of her wants to glance over her shoulder and make sure Shadow Weaver isn’t there, watching her every move. She doesn’t miss being in military school, but old habits die hard. 

She takes a quick glance anyways.

Not everything about military school had been awful. Being in the military had made her feel like she had some purpose. Even though she’d likely never recover from the trauma of being a child soldier, she’d appreciated having orders to follow, having an exact guideline telling her everything she had to do. It had kept her body in top shape, and she’d quickly become one of the finest cadets in military school, which had awarded her an easy place in the highly-esteemed Horde Academy. Having these orders to follow had always kept her mind off of her parents’ deaths. She’d appreciated military school for taking her in and treating her like any other cadet, never ever pitying her for her circumstances and tragedy. She’d preferred it that way.

But things started going downhill at the Academy. The Academy had just...not been right for her. The military part hadn’t been the worst of it. It wasn’t even the boys who kept trying to hook up with her despite her constant rejections (though the advances finally stopped when she broke a boy’s nose). It had been rugby, it had been Shadow Weaver, that had driven her away, which had gotten her to question everything in her life for the first time. Order was great for her, but Shadow Weaver had been obsessed with her, and she’d always made Adora feel like she was never good enough. The more she’d questioned everything, the more she’d realized that she’d never given herself time to process her parents’ deaths and that she’d been using the military as a distraction from doing so.

The choice to leave the military had never occurred to her before, but the misery that being at the Academy had brought her paired with the understanding and realization that the military institution was a tool for the government to continue its imperialist conquests made the choice so obvious for her. She’d put in her transfer applications last year, finally, and although she’d been worried about the financial burden of attending a school that may not give her a full ride the way the Academy did, the University of Etheria had given her a full ride and then some, giving her no excuse not to leave.

She’d been one of the lucky ones, one of the ones who had been able to leave. Her fellow cadets were still stuck there, but she wasn’t exactly in the position to tell them to transfer as well, as much as she wanted them to find happiness. It was something they had to decide for themselves, a voluntary choice they needed to make about what they needed.

It’s strange, now, to have choices: a choice in food, clothing, lifestyle, behavior, pretty much anything. Not having a daily uniform still makes her uncomfortable, but she’s trying to break out of that comfort zone. She still has her old red jacket from the Academy, and she’d worn it every day for a few weeks since she moved into this apartment in the beginning of August. Now, she’s slowly getting used to wearing something else besides that ratty old jacket. 

She digs into her scrambled eggs, savoring how they crumble and melt in her mouth while bits of salt and pepper land on her tongue and the flavors dance together. Glimmer and Bow sit on either side of her and stuff their faces with pancakes. She likes them. They’re good, they’re kind, and they’ve been especially welcoming and helpful with adjusting to life here. She’d been able to open up about her parents just yesterday, and Bow had simply listened to her, squeezing her hand here and there when her voice hitched. 

Adora also knows that Glimmer is close to Catra, and she’s a little...worried isn’t the right word. Anxious? She doesn’t want to be the one responsible for any boundaries or shifts in their friendship dynamic because of the hookup. From what she’s told Adora, though, this kind of stuff is not uncommon, especially with queer women on the rugby team. She wonders how many of them have hooked up with each other. Her gaze darts around the table, looking at her teammates. As she scans their faces, her eyes land on Catra’s across the table, which are looking directly at her. Adora quickly looks away and digs into her eggs again.

“Wait, Adora,” Bow starts, swallowing his bite of food. “You’ve had pancakes before, right?”

She shrugs at him. “Not really.”

He gasps audibly, and the entire team looks at them. “Stay right here. I’m going to get you one.”

“It’s really oka—” Bow runs off before she can finish speaking. She sighs.

One of the seniors—Spinnerella—gives her a wave. “Hey, number 8,” she says. “You were great in practice today. You’re real sturdy. That scrum we made today?”

“Unbreakable,” Netossa finishes for her, nodding in approval. “Haven’t felt power like that in a while.”

Adora gives a curt smile and looks down, a little bashful. She’s not used to getting compliments from her teammates. “Thank you.” She looks up and they’re grinning ear to ear. From her peripheral vision, she sees Catra next to them, glaring at her, her eyes intense as she shovels yoghurt into her mouth. “It’s really nice to be a part of this team.”

“Oh, you haven’t seen anything yet,” Spinnerella says. “The magic in this team shines during the games.”

“And the first game is next weekend!” Netossa pumps her fist. 

Mara grins at them. “We’re going to show the league who’s boss.” She glances at her watch. “Heads up, we have half an hour before tapes.”

“From 15s or 7s?” asks Glimmer.

“Both, but mostly 15s,” Mara says. All of them nod. 

“Wonderful,” Catra says, her gaze fixing on Adora again. “So we might get to see me getting a concussion.”

The table grows silent. Adora chuckles nervously and drinks from her glass, pulling her eyes away from Catra’s. 

“Pancakes for you!” Bow chimes in, breaking the tension between the team, and Adora could not be more thankful for him. “I hope they’re everything you expect and more!”

Conversation stirs amongst the table again, and she lets out a breath of relief. “Thanks, Bow.”

She cuts a small bite from the pancake and sticks it in her mouth, the syrup coating her tongue first. The syrup is extremely sweet, and she has to try not to spit it back out, but the buttery pancake itself melts in her mouth, the crisp edges contrasting with the soft, fluffy interior. It’s nothing like she’s ever had before. It’s probably not as sustainable as what she normally eats, but it’s enjoyable, and the moment she swallows she immediately picks up another piece and starts chewing again.

“It’s good, isn’t it?” Bow asks, his voice cracking a little and his smile wide. She simply nods at him. “I can’t believe I just witnessed you having the first pancake in your  _ life _ !”

“Get used to it,” Adora says, covering her mouth as she talks, pancake still in her mouth. “There’s a lot of things that will be firsts for me here.”

He chuckles and wraps an arm around her. “We’ll be right here for you.”

It’s almost scary how easily she trusts these new people. There doesn’t seem to be a hint of malice in this team, not even from Catra, who she suspects is just grumpy or dealing with some other issues that she’s taking out on Adora. They seem to actually care about her. They listen to her. They don’t just bark orders at her. They don’t yell at her for inconsequential things. They respect her space. They’re little things, but they mean the world to her.

~

The days go on, the practices trudge on, and their first game approaches more quickly than she anticipates. Catra didn’t think Coach Micah and Angella could get even harsher on them, but they did, and her body screams in pain every time she moves. The night before the game, she finds herself knocking on Glimmer’s door, unable to fall asleep despite being absolutely exhausted. A sleepy Glimmer answers the door, yawning as she moves to make way for Catra to enter the attic. 

“First game jitters?” Glimmer asks, sitting on her bed. Catra lies down on the pink plush carpet in the middle of the room. As much as she complains about the bright colors in this room, she does appreciate how comfortable and cozy Glimmer’s made it. There’s days she’d prefer to sleep on this carpet than in her bed, and the only thing that stops her is her need for privacy. 

Sometimes she considers stealing the carpet, but Glimmer would never let her hear the end of it if she did, and she really doesn’t have the energy to deal with an angry Glimmer. Finding excuses to come to Glimmer’s room and lay on the plush carpet would do for now. 

“Yeah.” She looks at Glimmer, who’s trying her best to keep her eyelids from drooping. “Our first games are always the worst.”

Glimmer bites her lip. “I’m a little worried about Adora, to be honest,” she says, stifling another yawn. 

Catra frowns a little at the mention of the other girl. “The team’s little golden girl?” she scoffs. 

It’s clear Mermista’s been rubbing off on them when Glimmer groans the way she does. “Catra, I honestly don’t know why you don’t like her.” Catra scoffs at her, and Glimmer scowls. “Obviously you liked her enough to hook up with her, and I know you well enough to know that it’s not actually the concussion that’s bothering you.” She shakes her head. “Listen, you don’t have to tell me right now, but if you’re not willing to talk to Adora about it, it’s not fair to hate her so much for no reason.”

“I don’t hate her,” Catra blurts. 

“Well, it sure seems like it.” Glimmer rubs her eyes and lies down. “You always get really defensive whenever she comes up and you get, like, angry.”

“It just…” She trails off. “Ugh! I don’t know how to explain it!”

“At least talk to her!” Glimmer turns towards her. “She’s not  _ her _ , you know?” 

Catra feels her shoulders stiffen up. “Glimmer—”

“Hear me out.” Glimmer takes a deep breath and sits up again. She opens her eyes wide, suddenly more awake. “No one’s expecting you guys to be best friends, but you don’t need to remind everyone that you don’t like her.”

“You’re right,” Catra very nearly spits. “She’s not her, because I’m not bending over backwards trying to be her friend.”

“Jesus, Catra, I—” Glimmer grimaces at her and digs her fingers into the sides of the bed. She bites her lip and her knuckles grow white. Catra can tell she’s going through those anger management skills she’s been working on with her therapist because she lets out a breath, dips her head, and the color returns to her hands. “You gave me a chance, so why not give her one, too?” Glimmer says gently. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

“I could end up being friends with some annoying girl with pink hair who—” She sinks her face into the mound of plush she’s sitting on and sighs into the carpet, giving up the argument. “—actually calls me out on my shit.”

“Love you too,” Glimmer mumbles. “Now get out. I’m tired.”

She flicks the light off in Glimmer’s room as she leaves and retreats to her room, immediately collapsing onto the bed. 

As much as she hates to admit it, Glimmer’s right. She knows she’s been terrible to Adora because she reminds her of... _ her _ , and she’s not sure she’s ready to deal with that kind of pain again. And she knows it’s not fair to assume Adora’s anything like her, but she can’t help it.

Part of her wants to talk to Adora about it, but she’s not really sure what she’d say, if there’s anything to say, really. Another part of her does like having an excuse not to like this beautiful, amazing girl who’s somehow charmed everyone around her. She has no interest in assigning herself the role of second best to someone who cares more about feeding their ego than about her. 

And she sure as hell doesn’t need more people leaving her once they’re done using her.

Deep down, she  _ does _ want to know Adora. She wants to know what her deal is—stupid things like her favorite movie, but also her thoughts on capitalism and why she feels like she needs to prove that she’s the best player on the field all the time. 

She knows Adora’s different, but she’s scared. She shakes the feeling out of her body and rolls over in her bed.

More importantly, though, she knows she’s been unfair to Adora.

How can she expect her to be a team player when she herself hasn’t been a great teammate?

~

Adora spends most of the bus ride fidgeting with a pencil and drawing plays in her notebook. Her chest feels tight and her head fuzzy, and she can’t think about anything else. She hadn’t meant to, but she started worrying about how the game would go, so much so that she needed to draw out every possible thing that might go wrong in today’s game. 

For example: maybe she’d knock the ball just as they regained possession, and they’d then lose the scrum, and then they wouldn’t be able to score, and then they’d lose the game. Or maybe she’d accidentally stick her hands into the ruck and then they’d lose the scrum because she’s not fast enough or maybe she runs out of bounds and then the line-out goes poorly, and—and—

Something waves in front of her eyes, and a warm hand plants itself firmly on her shoulder and squeezes gently. Adora initially stiffens, but relaxes once she sees the pink of Glimmer’s hair peeking out from behind the seat.

“Hey,” she says to Adora.

“Hey.”

“Are you seriously drawing plays right now?” Glimmer says, looking down at her lap, where her notebook sits, scribbles scrawled all over the top page. 

“No!” Adora shoves the notebook out of view and looks back at Glimmer. “Maybe! What else am I supposed to do?”

Glimmer shrugs. “Listen to music, sleep, just...relax, you know?” She jerks her thumb towards the seat next to her, where Catra sits, leaning against the window fast asleep.

Adora bites her lip and fidgets with her pencil. “I don’t really listen to music. Military school and the Academy didn’t let us do that.”

Glimmer’s eyes go wide. “No music? Oh my gosh, Adora, here, wait, give me a sec.” Glimmer’s head disappears behind the seat and emerges again moments later with earbuds. “Here, stick this one in.”

She fumbles with the tiny earpod as she tries to fit it into her ear. They had similar devices in the Academy, but they were most definitely not for music. She almost expects to hear an officer start shouting orders at her. Instead, it’s silent, and Glimmer’s scrolling through her phone.

“I have a game pump-up playlist,” Glimmer explains. “Bow and I made it together after I tried to make one for the team and nearly blew everyone’s ears off.” She chuckles. “I have intense tastes.”

She clicks on something on her phone and a series of rhythmic guitar chords plays, followed by a drum beat and the lyrics come to life.

_ Here’s the thing, we started out friends _

_ It was cool but it was all pretend _

Adora listens intently as the singer’s voice swells with the melody and the instruments ramp up with it. 

_ But since you been gone _

_ I can breathe for the first time _

_ I’m so movin’ on, yeah, yeah _

_ Thanks to you _

_ Now I get what I want _

_ Since you been gone _

Immediately the song reminds her of her old coach, and she smiles as she hears the lyrics properly. Without her around, without the military state literally controlling her every move, she feels like she’s learning to breathe. Her new teammates, her new friends—new family, really—have been helping her learn what it’s like to actually be alive.

“This is good,” Adora says to Glimmer, earning her a smile. Her eyes shine at her.

“Really? Okay, okay, this playlist just gets better,” Glimmer says excitedly.

Adora sits back in her seat and closes her eyes, letting the music wash over her. Her shoulders don’t feel so tight anymore, but she still feels fueled, and she absolutely can’t wait for this game to happen. She feels good about it.

The bus ride ends and she returns the earpod back to Glimmer. They unload the bus and get to the bleachers. Quinnipiac’s team loiters around the other side of the field, with a few of them running the field and the others stretching in anticipation. 

“We’re a team, okay?” Glimmer says, putting her bag next to hers on the bleachers. “We’ve got you.”

Adora nods. Her chest still feels tight, even though Glimmer’s music helped alleviate some of the tension.

She needs this game to go well. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rugby Terms:  
> prop - forward players; number 1 and 3. Essential for winning a "scrum" (defined below)  
> winger - backs; 11 and 14. They tend to be the fastest players, and score tries for the team  
> knock - when a player hits the ball with their arm/hand in an attempt to play, but it hits the ground/another player instead  
> scrum - called when a minor infraction occurs during play. forwards of both teams basically slam against each other, and they need to hook the ball with the feet and send it through their legs for a scrumhalf (9) or number 8 to take.  
> ruck - formation that occurs when one player tackles the person with the ball on the other team and the ball needs to be put back into play. (kind of looks like they're laying an egg/"pooping the ball")  
> line-out - a way to restart play when the ball goes out of bounds  
> try - a "goal" in rugby. worth 5 points
> 
> The game will be next chapter (this means lots of new terms)! I didn't realize how long their internal monologues would be, but they're important to explicitly talk about.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adora's first game with Etheria. It doesn't go quite the way she planned, but neither does the night, when Catra comes over to talk to her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey y'all! this chapter took a million years to write - i kept having to rewrite parts of it because i wanted to make sure i was giving these idiots the proper characterization they deserve. i hope you enjoy :)

It barely takes Adora two minutes to score a try for Etheria. When she taps the ball to the center of the end line, she relishes in the sight of Quinnipiac’s girls walking to their side of the field in defeat as a wave of adrenaline rushes through her veins. It’s an incredible feeling; it’s almost like she’s not herself. She’s bigger, she’s stronger, and she’s faster in every way possible. All the anxiety she felt melts away into this new form, pushed away as the field transforms from a rugby field of girls into a battlefield of foes, and power streams into her mind.

Within the next five minutes, Adora gets a hold of the ball again after one of the other girls drops it. When Quinnipiac’s girls set up a blockade in her path, she simply grins and runs towards them, kicking the ball up and bursting through the human wall. The ball soars over their heads and lands in her hands, nestling into her palms, and she runs off. A few girls dive at her feet, but she’s faster than all of them. One particularly stocky girl tries to tackle her from the side, and Adora nearly  _ laughs _ at the girl’s feeble attempt. She just shoves her aside and makes her way to the end line again, sinking another try. 

She scans the field and drinks in the rush, feeling her lungs suck in fresh air and her heart pumping it through to her fingertips. The next kickoff starts and Adora snatches the ball out of the air again and begins sprinting down the field again, plowing through girls left and right, tossing them aside, but this time, three of Quinnipiac’s girls wait for her near the end line and tackle her. Within seconds, the ball leaves her grasp and even though she pushes herself off the ground impossibly quickly, the other girls are down the other end of the field and score their first try. 

Adora grunts and begrudgingly takes her place again. She grits her teeth and tells herself that she’ll just have to be stronger and faster, and now that she knows that they’re planning on trapping her, she can save her energy and burst through them.

And she’s delighted when she gets to tap the ball to the center of the end line again. But another kickoff happens and she finds herself being overwhelmed by all the girls on the other team, who’ve found that they just need to rush her all at once. Now, they stop her from scoring, and they’re fast enough to score their own tries after reclaiming the ball.

She pounds the ground when the ball gets taken from her hands, dirt flying everywhere. Her teammates are supposed to have her back. They’re supposed to be keeping up with her, taking the other girls down. So what the  _ fuck _ are they doing, not keeping their eyes on the foes? She’s doing her part; how can they win if they won’t even do their part?

Quinnipiac sinks a few more tries, and Adora grows more and more angry. She clenches her fists and punches the wire fence, which rattles with the same angry fervor boiling within Adora. 

Just as she’s storming back to her spot, Catra brushes past her, knocking into her shoulder.

“Watch where you’re going!” Adora shouts at her. For a moment, she feels guilty about it, but her vision quickly grows red again and she hisses at her. 

The other girl whips around and her face goes dark with fury that Adora can feel burning her skin. “Watch where  _ I’m _ going—” Catra huffs and walks back towards her, her eyes dangerously narrow. She puts a finger on Adora’s sternum and presses hard. “You—” She opens her mouth, presumably to let out a string of insults, but instead, Catra pulls her hands together and takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry I got angry. Adora, please look around the field and pass to us,” she says, giving a thin-lipped smile. She nods at Adora and returns to her position.

Adora rubs the spot on her chest Catra stabbed her finger into and winces. That was probably going to leave a bruise. She rolls her eyes and saunters back to her spot. A part of her wanted Catra to yell at her, to fight with her, because she wants the team to know that she’s mad.

Glimmer punches her arm gently as she runs past her, and she ignores the burn the human contact leaves on her skin. “Trust us,” Glimmer says before joining the backs. 

Well, she’s trying, but they haven’t been very trustful teammates thus far. Adora rolls her eyes and scans the field.

She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. 

_ End line. _

_ Goal post. _

_ Touch judge.  _

She’s here to score tries for Etheria, her new school, her new base of operations. She’s already gotten them some points, and she can score them some more, just as long as she keeps her head in the game and her heart locked away.

_ I am strong _ , Adora reminds herself. She is a phenomenal player, a terror on the field, and she will do whatever it takes to bring Etheria to victory. 

~

A part of her is curious to see how long this catastrophe is going to go on. Was it going to be just the first half of the game? The entire game? 

But the other part of her is frustrated at Adora. It’s like Adora doesn’t see them or hear them on the field. 

It doesn’t really seem like Adora sees anyone, really. She’s been plowing through girls like they’re just dummies on the field, pushing them to the ground like sacks of meat. This is  _ not _ rugby. This aggression is not at all the spirit of the game, and her lack of compassion for the other girls is absolutely unacceptable. The other team is full of girls just like them—student athletes that are just trying their best, and Adora’s out here, throwing them around like they’re disposable.

It’s not only inconsiderate, but it’s dangerous for everyone on the field. Rugby requires power, but it requires precision and finesse, and there’s none of that in any of Adora’s movements. There is nothing but power pushing her, nothing but fire, and it’s terrifying.

This...this is not Adora. 

Sure, this person is someone who looks like her and moves like her, but she’s completely unrecognizable. This Adora is reckless, mean, and brutal. The Adora she knows would think twice about her actions. The Adora she knows would never have snapped at her like she did when she bumped into her.

(Which, for once, was truly an accident.)

Adora is infuriatingly attractive and gets away with being cocky, sure. But she’s also a big dork who’s kind and compassionate. She’s witty, she’s tenacious, and she’s…

Catra sighs. What right would she even have to say what kind of person Adora was? She barely knew the girl aside from what Glimmer said about her and the snippets at practice and team meals. 

And most of that is her own fault for alienating the girl. She knows she’s responsible for projecting her own unresolved trauma onto Adora because it was convenient and easier than processing it properly. Years of therapy sure had helped, but clearly she had more shit to work through. 

Maybe she could’ve prevented this not-Adora from terrorizing the field if she’d been a better friend to her. It’s clear that this is how she used to play with Horde Academy, but this is not at all how Etheria plays. Rugby is a team sport, and even though individuals have the capability to completely change the game, it’s always about working as a team. What’s the use in having powerful players if they don’t know how to optimize their strengths? And maybe if she’d been more welcoming of Adora, instead of being an asshole and a terrible teammate, maybe Adora would’ve been more willing to learn how to play as a team.

Then again, it is the first game of the season, Adora’s first time with Etheria. It’s always the roughest game of the season since they haven’t quite settled into any sort of groove. And from the way Glimmer’s horrified expression at Adora, this is clearly something no one expected. 

And yet, something is so familiar about this aggressive form. 

The air is thick with the scent of fresh-cut grass, the same way it did in 7s last year. She feels the old ache of her shoulder slamming into the ground and suddenly remembers the wind being knocked out of her by Juliet as a familiar, blonde-haired menace barrels into her, propelling them all to injury. That fury, that power in her face and her body—it’s the same thing she sees on the field now as Adora plays.

Maybe Adora isn’t the cocky asshole she assumed she was. Maybe her aggressive playing had nothing to do with trying to be the best player on the field, and instead…maybe it was about disconnecting from reality to get her head fully into the game. 

And of course Adora hadn’t understood why Catra had been mad about it; Adora had clearly been conditioned to believe that this was the way rugby was supposed to be played, that this was the way to go about whatever mental blocks she was having about the game. 

That first night she met Adora, when they hooked up, there had been something about her that had felt so different about her. Adora had looked broken and bewildered when Catra had asked her what she could do for her. There had been this dark glow in her eyes, shadows woven in the creases in her face. In that moment, Adora had looked vulnerable and fragile, despite her strong features.

But that Adora was nowhere to be found now. That Adora was long gone, buried beneath this version of Adora that had a mission to accomplish. 

A roar erupts from the other end of the field. Adora’s been tackled again and now, her entire face is bright red and she’s absolutely glowering at everyone and everything. Wisps of hair have pulled free from her ponytail, hovering in front of her face. She looks like she’s about to cry or strangle someone, and Catra’s not sure which is scarier.

One of Quinnipiac’s wingers heads right for the end line, and Catra instantly starts sprinting towards her. Adora’s right on the winger’s tail as well, pushing through anyone that gets in the way of the most efficient path. Catra watches as Adora lunges and just barely manages to grab onto the girl’s ankle and sends her flying. The girl ends up knocking the ball forward, and a scrum gets called. It’s a dirty move, one that often causes a concussion when the player lands onto the ground, but the girl lucked out for sure, though the other team’s coach shoots Adora the dirtiest look she can. 

It’s not like it matters, though—Adora’s only focused on the ball and not on anything else that’s going on on the field. 

With a simple push and a shove, they win the scrum, and Entrapta’s quick hands grab the ball. 

Entrapta passes the ball to Adora, and Adora books it across the field. Catra tails her again, just as she’d been doing the entire game, but this time, she waves at Adora when she looks in her direction, trying to capture her attention. Quinnipiac’s already setting up their blockade and their three-person tackle team. 

“Adora!” Catra yells, opening her hands. “Pass the damn ball to me!”

Adora snaps her head towards her, and for a moment, she sees that soft look in Adora’s eyes again. Catra watches the gears in her head turn and grows hopeful, but it fades away as Adora just frowns and continues running. Just as the other girls ram into her, though, she flicks her wrists and throws the ball back at Catra, and Catra’s off, running as fast as she can. Glimmer’s to her left and Mara on her right. She fakes a pass to Mara, distracting the other girls, and then tosses the ball back to Glimmer, who scores a try.

Maybe this game isn’t a total goner, after all. 

~

They get called off the field for halftime. Quinnipiac is up by an embarrassing number of points, despite their efforts. Adora storms off the field and grabs her water bottle. They got lucky when Catra, Glimmer, and Mara made their little play, but after that, the girls still hadn’t been able to score.

A furious Frosta stomps up to her while she sits on the bleacher. “Dude, what the hell?” she practically yells, cracking her knuckles.

“What do you mean, what the hell?” Adora fumes. 

“You’re being a ball hog!” Frosta says, crossing her arms. “This is a goddamned team sport, and you’re trying to go all solo!”

“What does it matter?” Adora throws her hands up and leans in to Frosta. “I’m helping us win!”

“Clearly, it’s not working!” Frosta gestures at the scoreboard, which boasts Quinnipiac’s embarrassing sixteen point lead on them.

She huffs. “Well, I don’t see anyone working with me to get the ball to the other end.”

Frosta narrows her eyes at her. “Do you hear yourself right now?”

“I’m playing for the team the way I know how!” she shouts. “What’s so bad about that?”

Glimmer puts a hand on her shoulder. “Adora, it’s super not cool to throw yourself and other players like that,” she says, squeezing her shoulder. “I don’t know what they taught you at the Academy, but you...you don’t have to do this alone.”

“I know that, Glimmer,” Adora snaps. “I know it’s a team sport. What the hell does everyone want from me? What, am I just  _ not _ supposed to score? Aren’t we trying to win?”

“Winning’s great, yeah.” Glimmer looks right at Adora, her gaze dark. “No, I’m not saying you shouldn’t score. But this isn’t the way to do it.”

Adora groans loudly and she slams her fist into the bleachers. Nothing makes sense to her. Everything she knows is at odds with everything that is being thrown at her. Quite literally—the ball seems to have a mind of its own, refusing to obey her. She squeezes her head in frustration and tucks loose blonde wisps behind her ear. What is she doing wrong? She’s strong, she’s fast, and she’s got nothing on the field blocking her mentally from plowing through anyone, so what’s the problem?

The bleachers clank as Catra walks over to her and the metal groans when she plops down next to her. She tenses up and glares at the other girl for a moment before focusing her gaze back onto the ground. “What? Come to yell at me? Again?” she sneers.

“This isn’t like you,” Catra says, her gaze soft and her voice gentle. 

“You don’t know me,” Adora spits, cracking her knuckles.  _ It’s better if you don’t. _

Why did she have to come here? Why can’t she just go away? Why do people keep wanting to talk to her? Why do people, especially Catra, keep trying to be gentle with her? What do they think they’re doing? All they need to do is let her shove people and get the ball to the other end of the field. They just need to clear the way so that she can do what she does best, score for the team, and then win the game.

Why does Catra need to look at her like  _ that?  _ Like...like she’s someone that matters or something.

_ Fucking hell, Adora. _ Why did she hook up with her that night? Why did she think that anyone would ever want her? Why did she think she was allowed to want anything? Anyone? Who does she think she is, going around making selfish choices? Maybe Coach Weaver was right; without her, she really is nothing but a “burnt-out sack of flesh” that nobody wants.

Why can’t she just be an asshole, through and through, and just leave it at that? 

And of course, instead of being an asshole, Catra just shrugs nonchalantly. “Fair enough,” she says. “I know I haven’t been much of a teammate to you, but…”

“Just spit it out,” she grumbles. “Jesus, just like, yell at me.” She tenses up, preparing for the onslaught, but it never comes. 

“I’m not going to yell at you.”

“Well, maybe you should!” Adora grips the metal seat so hard that it nearly bends in her hands. “Clearly, I’m just not good enough!”

“Now who’s yelling?” Catra teases.

A warmth blooms in her chest and Adora chokes it down.  _ This is not about me, _ she reminds herself. She can’t let herself believe she’s actually allowed to want something. It was a one time thing, a one time thing to satisfy someone’s physical need, and that was all it was. It was strictly mechanical, strictly physical, and there was nothing to it. It wasn’t for her, even if she did feel good.

She can’t let herself get attached to people again. Hell, she’s surprised Bow and Glimmer were able to squeeze anything out of her. Sure, it had been nice to talk about it and be open, but now she’s just scared of going anywhere near Glimmer on the field. 

It’s only okay to like things and to want things as long as they don’t impede her game, and clearly, something is impeding her game. She’s distracted by something. Her mind isn’t fully in the game. 

How is she supposed to explain that she’s not allowed to care about people? They wouldn’t get it. They don’t know what it’s like to have the people they care about be used as ammunition against them. They don’t know what it’s like to have their friends’ safety be dangled in front of them as a means of getting them to be obedient.

They don’t know what it’s like to lose the people they love because they couldn’t protect them.

The less people that know and care about her, the safer they’ll be from her. The more alone she is, the better it is for everyone around her. 

God, she sounds so fucking crazy, even in her own head. 

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Catra reach for her hand, but pause and pull it back. She wants so badly to hold it, but halftime is going to end any minute now, and there’s a game that they need to win. 

“You’re with us now,” Catra tells her. “You’re not with Horde Academy anymore.”

“I know that!” Her fists clench at her sides. “You think I don’t know that?”

“You sure still play like you don’t,” Catra says without hesitation. “I don’t even...I don’t even recognize you on the field.” She pauses. “Actually, no, I do. I see the same player who nearly dislocated Juliet’s shoulder and gave me a concussion last season.”

Adora laughs and almost wants to slap her. Of course, that game, the one that made her cry afterwards and earned her hours in solitary with no one but Coach Weaver breathing down her neck. “Are you seriously bringing _ that _ up right now?”  _ Stop making me care about you. It’s easier this way. _

“I’m not mad at you for it,” Catra says, which surprises her. Wasn’t that why she’d hated her in the first place? “We’re worried about you.” Adora’s heart shrivels up and gets stuck in her throat. They shouldn’t. They can’t. 

“Well, you guys shouldn’t be,” Adora mumbles. “I’m strong. I can take the hits. I can physically just do it all. Just let me do my thing.”

“What  _ thing? _ ” Catra snorts. “What, you doing everything by yourself? Yeah, because that’s going so well.”

“It’s just better this way,” she says.

Coach Micah and Angella wave them over. It’s time for the second half of the game, and hopefully, hopefully she can keep her head in it this time and not get distracted. 

But as she walks away from the bleachers, she can feel Catra’s eyes burning her back, and she just knows it’s not going to go well.

~   


_ This is stupid. _

The loose pebbles from the road crunch under Catra’s feet as she walks down the quiet suburbs streets just outside of campus. The wind bites at her ears and her fingers. She shoves her hands into her jacket pockets and tries not to shiver. It’s too bad she hadn’t taken her hat; her grey beanie would’ve been perfect for keeping her warm. It’s barely mid-August, so why is it so cold?

She can barely see the moonlight as she walks. She really should’ve checked the weather before she left the haus, but she knew if she’d waited a moment longer, she wouldn’t have left at all. 

The wind howls again and Catra starts walking faster. It doesn’t matter that she’s been here for over two years; she still hates walking in the dark, especially since most of the houses are occupied by other upperclassmen. Even though the undergraduate school prides itself on being a small liberal arts college, it inevitably fails to weed out all the creeps that apply, and it’s not like the Title IX office does much for bringing justice to the student body.

Two short blocks and a turn later, she finds herself at 82 Fremont St., where a small, blue, one-storey house sits. A scuffed-up Prius sits on the dirt driveway in front of the outdoor garage. It’s a cute house. Humble. Homely. 

She walks up to the door and finds herself face to face with a horrifying door knocker in the shape of a bull’s head. It’s cold and creepy, so she opts for the doorbell instead, which resounds through the house.

The lights flicker on inside the house and heavy footsteps trudge towards the door. How Adora was taking their loss? No doubt that she was blaming herself for it, and no doubt she wasn’t going to punish herself for it.

A very disheveled looking Adora opens a door, clad in a ratty shirt that somehow fits her broad shoulders perfectly and gym shorts that are just barely long enough to not be boxers. Her bloodshot eyes bore into Catra, the bags underneath sagging into her cheeks. Somehow,  _ somehow _ , even when she’s not trying to look good, even when she’s very clearly a mess, Adora manages to look so  _ fucking _ attractive. 

“Come to yell at me?” she croaks out to Catra, her eyes dull.

“Is that, like, your greeting for me now?”

Adora coughs and snorts. “You can’t blame me.”

“No, I really can’t,” Catra sighs.

They awkwardly look over each other. Thunder crashes, and Catra just stands on the porch as water starts dripping down from the sky. Adora clears her throat and moves out of the doorway. “Want to come in?” she offers. “It’s, um, raining.”

“Thanks,” Catra says as she steps into the warm house. 

It’s not at all homely on the inside. There are no photos anywhere, and the only evidence that anyone lives there right now is the shoe rack by the doorway. The kitchen holds an old gas stove, a sink, and a small counter. A few pots and pans sit on the stove, and just about five dishes are stacked on the shelf above the counter. The common space has a coffee table and a worn down plush couch. She suspects it came with the house. It doesn’t seem like something Adora would invest in. 

“Do you, um, want anything to eat? I have some crackers, cheese, milk, uh…” Adora meekly offers. It’s weird to see Adora like this again, so soft and fragile, after seeing the terrifying, angry beast she was on the field today.

She waves her off. “I’m good. I want to talk.”

Adora’s breath hitches and she freezes. She glances at Catra, petrified, but her face goes slack and she breathes out. “I don’t have a choice, do I?”

“Nope,” she says, popping the ‘p.’ “Not unless you want to send me out there.” She gestures out the window, where rain is falling down relentlessly onto the ground. 

“I could, you know?” Adora jokes, but her voice is weak and nearly trembles. 

“You wouldn’t.”  _ Rugby Adora would, but not you. _

Adora sighs. “Yeah, you’re right. Come on, let’s go sit.”

They perch themselves on either end of the couch. Catra leans against the armrest, while Adora rests her body on the back of the couch. 

She shakes her head at Adora and chuckles. “You’re so fucking confusing.”

Adora scrunches her face. “Look who’s talking. First, you say nothing after we hook up, only leaping in conversations to passive-aggressively talk about last season, and then suddenly you talk to me today at the game, and now you’re in my house, wanting to talk. You haven’t even insulted me once.”

“What, do you want me to insult you?”

“That’s not my point.”

“Anyways, no insults today.” Catra takes a deep breath. “First of all, you deserve an apology for the way I’ve been to you. It hasn’t been fair to you, and it’s really not cool. I’ve been nothing but an asshole to you, and I’m sorry.”

Adora nods, listening intently. How is this Adora and the Adora from earlier today the same damn person? It doesn’t make sense. This one is awkward, clunky, and dorky, but the one she saw earlier in the game is arrogant, focused, and vicious. 

“I appreciate that,” Adora tells her. “And it’s not really about the concussion, is it?” she suggests, cocking her eyebrow.

“No, it’s not,” Catra admits. “It’s about my unresolved past trauma that I projected onto you. I’ve been working through it with a therapist, but clearly, I still have more work to do.”

“You go to therapy?” Adora half snorts. “Wow.”

Catra chuckles. “You should’ve met me before my reformation. I was such a mess.”

“You sound like one of those kids with missionaries for parents.” Adora laughs for the first time in a while, and it lights up both her face and Catra’s heart. 

“Honestly, it sounds like you could do with some therapy,” Catra mumbles, meeting Adora’s eyes. “You’ve clearly got some shit going on that you need to deal with.” They sit in silence for a bit. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Adora says, and Catra almost regrets calling her out on it, but she pushes through the anxiety and just goes for it.

“I’m...obviously not a therapist, but I can see that you’re scared of hurting people,” she starts. 

Adora breaks eye contact with her and looks down at the stained couch. “You saw how I played today,” she says, trying but failing to hide her trembling voice. “Clearly, I don’t care about hurting people on the field.”

“You try not to care, but it’s so obvious that you do,” Catra says. Flashes of the game return to her. Every time Adora grabbed someone, every time she’d shoved someone aside, her face had twitched and her hands had flinched, and even if it was only for a brief moment, it hadn’t escaped Catra’s eyes. She opens her mouth to speak but bites her lip. She  _ could _ tell Adora that she thinks that someone taught her to equate her self-worth with her accomplishments, especially those in her sport as a means of manipulating her. She  _ could _ tell Adora that she knows that she wants to be close to people, but she can’t let herself get attached out of fear. Catra’s not sure what she’s afraid of, exactly, although she has her suspicions, but none of them are particularly inviting or enjoyable to picture. 

But telling her all this, all based on one game without even getting to know Adora first would be...a lot. 

It would be overstepping boundaries that haven’t even been established, and Catra doesn’t want to fuck up again. 

If she’s right and she read Adora correctly, they’re not quite so different, and the thought chills Catra’s guts. It sucks to have to go through that and to develop such a strange relationship with something—

But maybe she’s just projecting her own trauma onto her again, though, and that’s not something she wants to make a habit of. 

And even if she is right, which she very well may not be, it doesn’t give her the right to claim that she knows Adora without actually knowing  _ her. _ Sharing similar kinds of trauma can be a relief, but people are so much more than their trauma.

Therapy really did her well, didn’t it?

She mentally thanks her therapist for putting up with all her shit and guiding her through so many of her issues and ultimately, helping her grow into a person who was learning how to manage emotions and situations in a much more mature, productive manner. It wasn’t easy, and it still isn’t easy, but every day she has to believe it’s worth it.

That’s what Perfuma tells her, anyways, every time she walks to therapy with her. It scares her, just how much Perfuma trusts her, how good she thinks Catra is, and more often than not she gets the urge to hurt her to prove to her that she’s wrong, but she can’t bear to attack her friend, not after Perfuma has done nothing for her but be kind and supportive.

Perfuma’s a good friend. Catra could stand to learn a thing or two from her. 

She shoves all those threads of ideas into the back cabinet of her mind, and instead, she sighs heavily and says the first thing that comes to her mind. “You’re more than just a rugby player, Adora.”

And even though those are infinitely less words than she’d meant to tell Adora, they seem to get the sentiment across. Adora’s face softens and the same fragile look from the other night comes back, and for a moment Catra thinks she’s going to break, shatter right then and there like porcelain. But Adora just nods and gives a slight smile. Her tired eyes, her fatigued face, all seem to rejuvenate. Maybe it’s an illusion of the light, maybe it’s just her own tired mind playing tricks on her, but it’s...nice. 

“Thanks, Catra,” Adora says to her, and scoots closer to her. She reaches over to grab her hand. It’s soft and warm in hers, and Catra’s nerves calm. Maybe they’ll be okay.

“I know we got off on the wrong foot, but I…” Catra’s breath hitches as Adora’s thumb gently rubs her knuckles. “I’d like to be friends. If...if you also want that. I’d like to try.”

Adora smiles, fully, this time, and Catra hopes Adora can’t see the flush rising to her cheeks. She’s so handsome when she smiles, and she somehow  _ glows _ and lights up everything around her. It’s not something she gets to see too often—Adora’s generally stoic, and if not, she always looks uncomfortable with a forced smile—so it’s a treat when she gets to see the edges of her eyes crinkle, when she gets to see her eyes look bright for once, instead of angry or cold.

“I’d like that,” Adora whispers to her. Catra squeezes her hand. 

This feels so easy. She’s not usually such an affectionate person, and yet all of this, all this openness and softness feels so possible when she’s around Adora. Maybe, in a cosmic sense, they’re supposed to be friends. Then again, she isn’t much for astrology and the whole “aligning the stars” deal—that’s more Perfuma’s deal—but she’s getting better at listening to her heart, and her heart is telling her that she’s safe with Adora.

“You’re not alone anymore, Adora,” Catra says. She scoots closer to Adora and leans her head on her shoulder, which relaxes under her chin. Adora rests her own head on Catra’s, and Catra feels her chest erupt with comfort. 

“I know you’ve grown a lot, and I like this you that you are now,” Adora starts, “But I also would’ve liked to have known you before.”

Catra stifles a laugh. “It would literally just be the me you knew up until today, but even more passive-aggressive. Nothing fun about that. Might be a little too much for your goody two-shoes military self.”

Adora laughs heartily. “Hey, I’ll have you know I broke a  _ few _ rules.”

“Like what? Jaywalking?”

“No,” Adora pulls away from her, and Catra immediately misses the warmth. A mischievous shine takes over her gray eyes. “Like punching a dude in the face outside of training.”

“Oh?” Catra whispers. “I bet he deserved it.”

“He absolutely did.”

The image of Adora’s fist clocking a guy in the nose somehow turns her on. The thought of Adora, all fired up, throwing hands with some douchebag who thinks the world belongs to him, defending herself or someone she cares about...it sends a shiver down her spine. 

She wants to be friends with Adora, no doubt, but she can’t deny this attraction to her. That first night wasn’t a fluke by any means—it was a magnetic pull that Catra had just stopped resisting for one moment, and from the way Adora is looking at her right now, it doesn’t seem like it was a fluke for her, either.

Before she knows it, she’s leaning forward and grabbing Adora’s shirt by the collar, pressing her lips to Adora’s again, still rough the way it was the first time, and yet with a hint of something more than simple lust. But Catra pushes that thought away, focusing only on Adora, letting her hands trail down her body, across the muscles that are both firm and soft at the same time. Adora’s hands clasp under her thighs, and she hoists Catra onto her lap so that she’s fully straddling her. 

They pull away from each other, gasping for breath. Adora’s lips are already slightly swollen, and Catra just wants to nip at them again, but she just rests her forehead against Adora’s while she catches her breath. 

“Friends, huh?” Adora teases, panting.

“We can be friends  _ and _ hook up too, you know,” Catra purrs. “It’s called friends with benefits,  _ princess. _ ”

Adora snorts. “I might’ve lived under a militant rock, but trust me, there were a lot of sexually frustrated cadets under that rock.”

“So we’re doing this, then?” Catra asks.

Adora’s grip on her waist tightens and she pulls her in even closer, half grinding her hips into Catra’s, her eyes shining with lustful determination. “Don’t keep me waiting,” she practically growls in her ear. She buries her face into Catra’s neck and starts kissing her again, and Catra’s moans fill the house.

This wasn’t such a stupid idea, after all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> leave me comments and scream with me @catrugh on tumblr


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the aftermath of the disastrous game and the start of classes featuring our two favorite idiots

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey y'all! this is mostly a filler chapter full of softness and the beginning of Adora's journey with healing. hope y'all enjoy!

“Listen up, team,” Coach Micah starts, clasping his hands together gently and silencing the room immediately. “Your classes will start in a few days, and so of course, tomorrow is our last day of preseason.” Someone boos loudly from the back. “I know, I know. Bow will send out the modified practice schedule later today. But now let’s talk about yesterday’s game.

“First off—” Adora sucks in a breath “—nice job scoring against them. Quinnipiac’s got some strong recruits, and it looks like they’re really gunning it this year. They’re faster than they were last year, and they’ve gotten really good at adjusting their game. Rumor has it that their new coach has connections to Kendra Cocksedge. 

“Secondly, we’re starting to show some signs of great teamwork. That try with Adora, Catra, and Glimmer? Absolutely gorgeous. We just need more of that. Rugby’s a team sport, eh? We have each other’s backs—no pun intended—and we help each other grow.”

Adora looks around the room, waiting for someone to shoot her a dirty glance, but her teammates just nod and listen to Micah intently. No one looks at her, save for Bow, who just smiles and waves. 

She’s thoroughly confused. She came here fully expecting to be yelled at, and instead, they’re just calmly talking about the game, discussing the team dynamics, completely ignoring the fact that she probably single handedly lost the game for them. 

Micah flips the pages on his clipboard and smiles. “Everyone got that? Let’s move on to tapes now.”

“Woah, wait, wait,” she says, interrupting Micah. Everyone looks at her curiously, except for Frosta, who continues to look bored. “Are we not going to talk about the fact that I was a literal ball hog for the entire game?”

“And a bulldozer,” Frosta adds. 

“Frosta!” Perfuma scolds. 

“What? It’s true.”

“Yeah, it is true,” Adora nods sadly. 

“What about it?” Angella asks. 

“I wasn’t watching the field. I barely passed to anyone. I—as Frosta elegantly put it—was a bulldozer. That’s like, not cool.” She exhales and stops wringing her hands. “I was a shitty player, a shitty teammate, and just...I think I ruined our chances of beating them.”

“But you know now what it’s like to work together, right?” Micah says. “And you know how you acted during the game wasn’t okay.”

Mermista shrugs. “Yeah, that wasn’t cool.”

“And we probably would’ve done better if we worked more as a team,” Perfuma says.

Guilt eats at Adora’s stomach. “I’m sorry,” she says, hanging her head a little. “I don’t mean to let everyone down.”

“You didn’t,” Catra says. Everyone’s gaze shifts towards the other girl, whose feet are propped up on the table. “What? She didn’t. Why is everyone looking at me like that?”

“You’re...defending Adora,” Spinnerella says. “Are you guys, like, friends now?” 

Catra glances at her and shrugs. “Yeah. And we’re teammates. It’s like Coach Micah said: we have each other’s backs. Adora didn’t let anyone down, and I’m not going to let her believe that she did.”

Bow beams at Catra, and Micah looks extremely pleased as well. 

“Besides, what’s that thing you always say, Mara? That it’s not just about winning each game, but about growing as a player and a person?” Catra adds.

“That’s exactly it,” Mara nods. “It’s just one game, and your first one with us at that. We can work on the teamwork issues during practices now that we get a sense of how we play.”

“Though I’d also suggest therapy for your anxiety,” Perfuma leans over and whispers.

“Wait, so, you guys  _ aren’t _ mad at me?” Adora asks. “And you guys aren’t...kicking me off the team?”

Catra chuckles and leans back in her chair. “What, were you just going to leave?”

“No, I—”

“We like you, dude,” Frosta says. 

“People make mistakes, and people grow,” Perfuma chimes in.

“You thought  _ one game _ would get you kicked off?” Glimmer laughs. “I literally broke the goal post last year.”

Everyone looks at each other humorously. 

“I dented Mara’s car,” Huntara says bravely. 

“I set the field on fire,” Mermista murmurs.

“I pooped in the bus bathroom,” Scorpia admits. The room grows silent.

“That was  _ you?” _ Glimmer screeches. “That’s a fine!”

“I thought we were just sharing forgivable mistakes!”

“Pooping on the bus is  _ absolutely unforgivable!” _

“Where? Where does it say that?”

“Dude, it’s literally in the bylaws,” Mermista says.

“What? I thought those were made up!”

“They’re written behind the fridge. I wrote them up.”

“How are we supposed to read it if it’s behind the fridge?”

“You just know.”

“That’s not helpful!”

Coach Angella’s serious demeanor breaks down and she starts laughing. “Okay, girls, let’s put that discussion on the back burner.” She turns to Adora and gives her a warm smile. “I’m glad you brought it up if it was bothering you. Of course we aren’t mad. We care about you, Adora, about your physical and mental well-being. You’re not just a recruit. You’re a part of this team. You’re a part of this  _ family _ .”

Adora swallows and nods. “Thank you, Coach—ma’am—er, Coach Angella, ma’am.” She nearly raises her hand for a salute, but she fights the urge and relaxes in her seat. 

“Now, let’s get on with the tapes, eh?”

* * *

Catra walks into the classroom for her first class—her required writing seminar—and catches the gaze of twelve eager, scared first-year students who have been sitting here for the past fifteen minutes, waiting for the professor, and she thinks that maybe,  _ maybe _ waiting until her junior fall to take this writing seminar was a worse idea than just ripping the band-aid off her first semester here.  _ Whatever _ , she huffs, sinking into the closest empty chair and dropping her backpack into the chair next to hers.

She loves her school, she really does. As much as she shits on the administration for its lackluster efforts towards improving student life, she does appreciate what the University offers. It’s a place she’s learned to call home rather easily, mostly thanks to her teammates and the Haus. 

But goddamn, she really, _really_ doesn’t want to take requirements outside of her degree if she doesn’t have to. She’s still a little bitter at the Dean of the College, and she _may_ _or may not have_ egged the administration building.

Then again, Food Science Writing couldn’t be all bad, could it? The final project seems interesting enough, and if anything, she’ll end up on the good side of the Hausmates for cooking a bunch of food for them.

But then the first-year next to her starts chattering about test scores from high schools and extracurriculars and she immediately considers leaving. She couldn’t have been  _ this _ annoying as first-year, could she?

_ Well, _ she thinks,  _ Hopefully you’ll grow out of it, kid.  _

A woman clad in sleek black boots and a grey pantsuit marches into the room. She drops her armful of folders and books onto the table and clears her throat. 

“Hey guys, my name is Octavia Simmons. I’m a graduate student here at Etheria in the Comparative Literature department. I’ll be your professor for this semester, but please, just call me Octavia.” She glances at her computer screen and then at each of their faces, frowning. “Huh, well, I guess it’s the first day, beca—”

The door slams open and a sweaty, red-cheeked Adora stumbles into the room, shoving her disheveled hair back.  _ No fucking way. _ “Hi! I’m so sorry. This campus is so confusing.” Her knuckles gleam white from how hard she’s gripping the strap of her backpack, and her shoulders are unbelievably tense, more than Catra’s ever seen. A bead of sweat rolls down the side of Adora’s face and Catra gulps as it disappears down into her shirt. Somehow,  _ somehow _ Adora manages to look so  _ damn _ gorgeous even when she’s a mess. 

_ This is not the time for bedroom thoughts, _ she scolds herself.  _ Besides, we  _ literally _ hooked up two nights ago. _

She tries not to conjure up the image of Adora’s head between her legs and her tongue twisting over her clit. She  _ especially _ tries to shove away the absolutely overwhelming exhilaration of her climax after Adora added her fingers into the mix. Catra crosses her legs and looks around the room at all the first-years, whose presence turns her off  _ completely. _

Adora looks around the seminar room now at the instruction of their professor, and her eyes meet Catra’s. The tension in her body immediately fades and the color returns to her hands as she exhales in relief. Catra waves.

“Is your backpack enrolled in this class, too?” Adora smirks.

“Huh? What?” Catra asks, confused. 

Adora gestures towards her backpack. “I think it’s sitting in my seat.”

“Oh, right.” Catra pulls her backpack off of the seat, and Adora slides in.

“What are you doing here?” Catra asks her as Octavia hands out syllabi.

“This is Food Science Writing, right?” Adora asks, her eyebrows furrowing. “This is Friedman Hall, no?”

“Yeah, it is, it’s just that this class is usually full of just first-years.”

“Oh,” Adora says, pulling a pencil out of her backpack. “My advisor just told me I needed to take a writing seminar to graduate, so I figured I’d just take one now.” She frowns at Catra. “Why are you here?”

Catra groans. “I was putting it off for as long as I could.” She scans the syllabus quickly, writing the professor’s contact information and office hours into her planner. Adora looks at her with an amused grin. “What?”

“Your planner. It’s so...sparkly and  _ pink.” _ Catra hisses. Adora stifles a laugh and reaches for her planner. “Here, can I see it?”

“Do I really have a choice?”

“Nope,” Adora says, popping the ‘p,’ and grabs the glittery notebook. “Did Glimmer give this to you?”

“I would like to say yes,” she grumbles, “But unfortunately, no.” Adora quirks her eyebrow at her. “It was the only one left at the bookstore!”

“Mm, okay, sure.” Adora snorts and opens it. She draws something into the first page of the planner and passes it back to her. Catra squints at the little drawing. She’s not completely sure what it is, but it vaguely looks like—

“Is that supposed to be me?”

Adora dramatically clutches a hand to her chest. “What, you couldn’t tell? I thought I captured your essence.” Adora points to the angry eyebrows. “See?”

“I hate you.”

“Well, the only other writing seminar is  _ Whale Watching, _ ” Adora suggests. “If you  _ really  _ hate me…”

Catra rolls her eyes. “I guess I’ll just stay in this class.”

“Wow, it’s like you like me or something.” Adora bumps her knee against Catra’s. “That’s so embarrassing.”

Heat creeps to her cheeks. “No, you dumbass. It’s nice to have another upperclassman in the class.” 

Adora sticks her tongue out at her. “Sure, sure.” She gives Catra a look, and at this point, Catra knows her well enough to see through the playful facade she’s built in the past few weeks. It might work on the other girls on the team, but she knows Adora’s still insecure about fitting in.

“Okay, fine, maybe it is because I like you,” Catra says, swallowing her pride. Adora’s face lights up and that feeling in the pit of her stomach returns.  _ Look at the first-years. Look at the first-years.  _

“So why Food Science?” Catra asks.

Adora shrugs. “I missed real food. Forgot how much I liked it until I came here. Besides, my grandmother has—well,  _ had, _ since she’s dead—this blueberry pie recipe that I absolutely love. The final project for this class—”

“—Will be a semester-long experience of testing out old, vague recipes and experimenting with them.” Octavia’s voice overlaps with Adora’s. They snap their heads toward their professor, who flips through a few slides in the front of the room. “You’ll keep a progress log of your experiments and do some literature work in between to determine how you can improve them.” Octavia pauses. “It will be a partner project, and you can either choose your partner or have me assign you to one.”

Catra and Adora turn to each other instantly. Adora quirks an eyebrow, Catra nods, and the silent contract gets signed right there and then. 

“Anyways. Please read through the syllabus and start thinking about what recipes you want to explore! It can range from old family recipes to medicinal treatments from the Early Modern Era. Now, let’s get started with a small discussion about the history of food.”

She spends most of the class trying not to get distracted by Adora, who keeps drawing terrible stick figures in the margins of her notebook. She makes the mistake of putting her pen down to look for something in her backpack, only to find Adora’s smug face looking at her as she twirls her pen in her hand.

“Give that back!” Catra hisses quietly, trying to listen to the discussion. 

“Or what?” 

Catra leans on Adora and reaches for her pen. Just as she grabs it, Adora’s breath ghosts over her neck and Catra nearly drops it again, but instead quickly retreats to her seat. 

_ If Adora’s going to distract me, then I’ll return the favor. _

Her knuckles brush against the side of Adora’s leg under the desk. Adora pretends not to notice, but Catra doesn’t miss the way Adora’s breath hitches. Her fingers creep up Adora’s thigh slowly, making sure to drag this out for however long she can. 

“In  _ A History of the World in 6 Glasses, _ Tom Standage makes sure to talk about the different associations between wine and beer and how it’s evolved over time in different cultures…” Octavia says in the background. She takes careful notes, and although the girl beside her is also trying, it’s clear from the way she keeps breaking the lead of her pencil that Adora absolutely  _ cannot _ focus. Adora gives her a dirty look when her hand fully lands on Adora’s thigh and starts climbing upwards.

“What?” Catra playfully asks. “I’m not doing anything.”

“You’re the worst.”

“Oh,” Catra tsks and slowly drags her hand away. Much to her surprise, Adora’s hand grips hers, keeping it in place. “ _ Oh. _ Am I the worst?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

By the end of the class, her hand is on her upper thigh, her fingers ghosting over her inner thigh, where she knows Adora’s sensitive. She almost feels disappointed when Octavia dismisses them, when Adora clears her throat and stands up, letting her hand slip away. 

“Catra,” Adora says firmly. “Would you like to, um, get started on our project?”

“We don’t know what we’re—”

“Let’s brainstorm at my place,” Adora says, gripping her hands. “If that’s okay, of course.”

She suddenly realizes what Adora’s putting down and she gives her a sly smile. “Why, yes, let’s go brainstorm.”

* * *

The Haus looks a lot more different during the day than it does in the day. In the sunlight, the flamingos on the lawn actually look nice together, bringing a bit of color into the green. They’re still creepy, but it at least makes sense. 

It’s also weird that she’s going into the Haus with Catra  _ after _ having sex with her instead of  _ going to  _ have sex with her. She’s not sure she wants to make a habit of flirting during class and hooking up afterwards, but then again, she’d be lying if she didn’t enjoy an afternoon snack now and then. 

And it was Food Science, wasn’t it?

She nearly _giggles_ at her own joke. Glimmer and Bow were taking the time to teach her about pop culture and the newest trends, and while none of them made sense to her, they did present her the opportunity to make stupid jokes.

Guilt itches at her stomach for hooking up with Catra just because she wanted to, though, and she tries to push it down.

_ Catra also wanted to, _ she reasons with herself, _She wouldn't have done that in class if she didn't._

She steps in and catches a whiff of fresh lemon, instead of the usual nasty tub juice. The inside of the Haus definitely looks different when there’s not a bunch of alcohol lying around and a bunch of drunk rugby players gathered around the foyer. The last social was definitely the most fun so far, with drinking games that were somehow both wholesome and disturbing, but the best part was pinning Catra up against the wall as she fucked her in her room, sucking on her neck and leaving behind marks everywhere.

The Haus is by no means neat, but it looks lived-in and cozy. A few stray cups and books litter the coffee table in front of the couch, where Mermista is curled up, sleeping as the TV continues to play a documentary about bees. For once, it looks like a proper house instead of a nasty sports frat house, and maybe she’s just tuckered out from her afternoon activities, but she has absolutely no desire to hook up in this environment, which feels unusual. 

“Is anyone else home?” Adora asks, pointing towards Mermista.

Catra dries her hands on her pants and pulls out a few bowls from the cabinet. “No,” she says, shaking her head. “They’re all probably at the library or something.”

“Do you like working at the library?” 

“Not really. I’m pretty happy working in the Haus or in the CS building.” Catra pulls open some drawers and pulls out a whisk and rolling pin. “I’m surprised we have these things. We don’t really bake all that often.”

“That’s too bad.” Adora opens her laptop and squints at the picture of a piece of paper with nearly illegible handwriting. “What the fuck, Razz?”

Catra drops the bag of flour onto the counter and walks over to Adora. “What?”

“How the fuck am I supposed to read that?” Adora scooches over. “Can you read that?”

Catra looks at the scrawls, illegible at first glance, but she see the loops and the general shape of the words and starts filling the words in. “Oh, this is child’s play.”

“What? How?”

“Trust me, I’ve read worse,” Catra grumbles. “You’d think being a TA for an intro computer science course wouldn’t be so much on-paper writing.” She shudders. “At least I’m great at deciphering shitty handwriting.”

“It’s really handy now,” she laughs, relieved that this project isn’t a no-go. “What are the ingredients again?”

“Flour, butter, shortening, salt, and ice water.” Catra drags a finger over the lines on the paper. “We have all of those.”

“Let’s get started, then!” Adora says, bringing her laptop to the kitchen island.

Adora doesn’t expect to be so  _ bad _ at baking, and even though her hands are so swift during rugby, they’re clumsy to no end in the kitchen. The ingredients nearly skid off the table with the way Adora’s trying to work them together.

“Want me to try?” Catra offers.

She looks down at the counter, where the butter’s melded onto the wood, the flour is everywhere but where it’s supposed to be, and the ice water is now tepid. She grimaces and moves out of the way. “Yeah, probably.”

Catra’s hands are gentle, soft, and swift, even with baking. The ingredients obey her, coming together in one composed mixture that soon becomes recognizable dough within minutes. 

Adora’s jaw drops. “How the hell…?”

“I used to bake a lot,” Catra shrugs. “Especially my freshman year. I’d mostly bake bread, with the occasional pastry here and there.” She scowls. “Fucking hate puff pastry, though. Never doing a full puff ever again.”

“Wow, I bet your dorm smelled great.”

“It did. Too bad it was in the middle of the night.” Catra wipes her face with her arm. “It was a rough year.” Her hands expertly pack the dough into a ball and wrap it in plastic. “Can you put this in the fridge and get the blueberries?”

“Sure,” Adora says, gingerly taking their precious pastry child and placing it in the fridge. She takes the giant carton of blueberries and washes them in the sink before taking them back to the counter where Catra—

“Woah!” Catra exclaims as she collides into Adora’s chest. Flour goes flying and lands in Catra’s dark hair and all over Adora’s shirt. “Get your big—” Catra goes red and shoos Adora. “Go back to the counter.”

“My big…?” Adora crosses her arms and smirks at her.

“Shut up. I hate you.” Catra shoves Adora’s shoulder with a floury hand. 

“No, you don’t,” Adora says, poking and hoping at the same time. 

Catra’s eyes soften. “No, I don’t.” 

“I’m glad we’re friends,” Adora says, smiling at Catra. 

The other girl looks up at her and returns the smile. “Me too,” Catra admits. “Wow. Therapy’s really changing me, huh.”

“You going soft on me?” Adora quirks an eyebrow. 

“Nothing wrong with soft,” Catra responds after a moment. She stares at the carton of berries. “This is a metric fuckton of blueberries. Your grandma was one crazy woman.”

“She was,” Adora agrees. “But we loved her all the same.”

“What was she like?” 

It’s nice, being able to talk to Catra about what seem like such mundane things. But these are things she’s never shared with anyone else, things that not even her “friends” back at Horde Academy knew. 

Then again, no one knew anything about her after her parents died. It’s scary, letting herself open up about such personal things, and she’s a little scared that Catra’s going to close her off, but the girl just listens intently, silently absorbing everything Adora’s telling her.

“Thanks for listening,” Adora concludes as Catra stirs the boiling berry filling. 

“Thanks for opening up,” Catra says, shooting her a knowing glance. 

It’s strange how familiar Catra feels already, even though they pretty much just met. There’s something so homely about her, something that feels like she was supposed to meet her, like she was supposed to become friends with her. She feels...comfortable.

Even though her new teammates and coaches told her that she’s a part of the family, it didn’t take any of the guilt away. It still eats at her at every turn. She hates erupting into that violent version of herself. She hates how the anxiety takes over and turns her into someone she doesn’t recognize. This past week, hell, the entire time she’s been here has been the hardest time of her life, trying to adjust to this new routine, but she’s beginning to grow fond of it.

But she looks at Catra, and she remembers just how different Catra is now compared to when she first met her. She’s still Catra, and perhaps who she saw first was a glimpse of what she used to be, but in the end Catra came to her, apologized, and was just so  _ mature _ about everything. 

Could Adora grow, too? Could she learn to process her emotions and cope instead of letting it control her?

Maybe it’s not even about whether or not she can grow. Maybe it’s about deserving the chance to.

Maybe, for once in her life, she can have something that she didn’t have to earn. Coach Weaver is gone, she’s free, and she’s allowed to want more from her life.

“How do I find a therapist around here?” she finds herself asking. The kitchen grows thick with silence for a moment before Catra smiles softly and hugs her. 

And she thinks, maybe, this is where her life actually gets to begin. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which lines get a little blurry and feelings start coming into play

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mmhm rating change! realized it's better to play it safe than sorry!

If it weren’t for the lightning flashing and the thunder clapping every five minutes, Catra would probably just pull the sheets over her head and go back to sleep. Everything is great the way it is right now, with the peaceful rhythmic drumming of raindrops against the window and Adora silently sleeping next to her.

Another flash of lightning lights up the room and Catra braces herself for the crash that will soon accompany it. There’s no use trying to fall asleep now. 

It’s eight in the morning, anyways, according to the clock on the nightstand, and she really should get back to the Haus soon. There’s a huge project for her computer animation class waiting for her back home, and it’s due  _ much _ sooner than she’d expected.

And besides, she should get going before she overstays her welcome at Adora’s place.

She sits up and stretches her body, letting her joints crack one by one. She cracks her neck and finally, swings her legs over the side of the bed. 

She starts to push herself up, but a gentle hand grazes her fingers. She turns and finds her eyes locking onto Adora’s beautiful blue eyes shining from behind drooping eyelids. 

“Hey,” Catra says. “Thunder wake you up?”

“Your joints,” Adora mumbles. Catra should  _ not _ feel so turned on this early in the morning, and yet, Adora’s gruff morning voice shoots a flame of desire right between her legs. “They’re so loud.”

She climbs back into the bed and shoves Adora playfully. “If you weren’t  _ hogging _ the entire bed, this wouldn’t be a problem.”

Adora’s eyes snap open and she scoffs. “Well, I wouldn’t have needed to if you didn’t steal the  _ entire blanket. _ ”

“The  _ entire blanket _ , huh?” She tugs on the blanket away from Adora and bundles herself up like a burrito. “Now  _ that’s _ the entire blanket.”

“I’m cold!” Adora whines, rubbing her bare shoulders. “Give it back!”

“Come and get it, then!”

Adora smirks and tackles her, latching on with her arms and her legs. She starts to pull the blanket out of Catra’s grip and squirms into the space with Catra, shoving her feet into the blanket first. Catra shrieks as Adora’s cold feet brush against her exposed back.

“Serves you right!” Adora sneers, but she wraps her arms around her and tugs her to her front, which warms up quickly. Catra nuzzles into the crook of her neck, burying her face into the new pocket of warmth and she inhales deeply and sighs. There’s something about the way Adora smells that always draws her in closer. It’s hard to put her finger on what the scent is—maybe it’s the smell of fresh-baked bread, maybe it’s the smell of the forest in fall—but it always,  _ always _ smells like home should.

Adora shifts a little, loosening the blankets around them. She presses lips against Catra’s neck, drawing out a soft groan from her throat before she can stop it. Catra’s hands roam down Adora’s back and travel to Adora’s perky butt and gently squeeze the muscle. Adora’s own calloused palms run over her back, over each little peak and trough in her physique. Catra  _ knows _ she’s not going back to the Haus for a bit now.

Sex with Adora is great. Physically, at least, for her.

It’s not like Adora doesn’t let Catra touch her body, and it’s not like she hasn’t learned that her inner thighs are extremely sensitive, but she hasn’t really let Catra fuck her. And she’s got no intention of forcing any sort of agenda or schedule on her. It’s just that she wants to be able to make her feel at least half of what Adora makes her feel. 

They’d talked about it a little after Catra had brought it up one night, concerned that she was being too selfish in bed.

_ It’s nothing to do with you, _ Adora had told her last week.  _ I promise. I’m just worried. _

_ Worried about what? _

_ I don’t want to dump all this baggage onto you. _

_ It’s okay, Adora. You’re allowed to talk to me about these things. _

_ It’s why I got a therapist. _

_ Okay. I won’t make you tell me anything, but I want you to know I’m here for you. _

_ Thanks. _

_ It’s what friends do. _

_ Right. _

Adora kisses her neck more and Catra feels the heat building between her legs. She drags her finger up Adora’s chest and neck and grazes her nail over her jaw. She presses her lips to Adora’s, their tongues lazily meeting in each other’s mouths. Her hands plant themselves onto Adora’s back, feeling the broad muscles she adores. 

She pulls away from Adora’s mouth it’s her turn to play with Adora’s sensitive neck. She sucks gently on the skin, eliciting a throaty groan from the other girl. Adora looks at her with a lazy but lustful expression. 

“What is it?” Catra asks her in between kisses.

“I think I want you to fuck me,” Adora groans. Catra freezes and nearly jerks away. 

“What?” She’s more shocked than anything. She doesn’t want to rush her, and for a moment, she’s scared that maybe she was too pushy about it, maybe—

“You—you don’t have to, if you don’t want to,” the other girl stammers.

“No, Adora, I  _ want _ to,” Catra says. “I want to make you feel good. But are  _ you _ okay with it?”

“Are  _ you _ sure?”

“If you are.”

Adora nods, and Catra’s hands immediately slide to Adora’s abdomen, admiring the muscle before they slip down the front of her shorts. She presses a gentle kiss to her neck as her fingers graze over Adora’s underwear and the other girl lets out a soft gasp.

“You’re so wet,” Catra mumbles.

“You’re so fucking hot,” Adora’s voice grumbles in Catra’s ear. Her teeth scrape against her earlobe and it’s all Catra needs to get going. She starts rubbing her fingers against Adora through the soaked fabric, and takes in every tremble that Adora’s body lets out. “Please, I need you.”

She’s never been more motivated in her life. She slips her hands out of Adora’s shorts briefly, just to tug them off, along with her underwear. She looks down at the other girl, and she still can’t believe just how gorgeous she is. This is the first time she’s seen her fully naked, and she wants to please this girl so much.

She shoves the blankets off of them, exposing them both to the colder air of the room, and settles with her legs on either side of one of Adora’s. She leans down and clamps her mouth over Adora’s breasts, her tongue playing with her cold nipples. Her fingers traverse down Adora’s body and land right on Adora’s dripping folds. She rubs against her a few times, letting Adora’s whines fill the room.

“Fuck,” Adora moans. Catra silently keeps working her fingers and tongue, letting the sound of her rubbing Adora’s wet lips fill the silence. One of Adora’s hands lands on the back of Catra’s head and grip her hair, and Catra takes the cue and gently pushes a finger inside of her.

“Is this okay?” she asks Adora, who just nods and tightens her grip on Catra’s hair.

“I need more,” Adora gasps out. 

Catra obeys, gently adding another finger. She starts pumping in and out of her, going faster and faster, and Adora’s hand grabs her shoulder and squeezes as she moans. She curls her fingers inside of her each time and places her thumb over Adora’s clit and starts rubbing as she moves in and out of her. 

Adora’s nails gently graze her back. “Harder,” Catra hears herself say against Adora’s chest, and her nails dig into her, eliciting a groan from her lips. 

“You feel so good,” Adora groans, thrusting with each of Catra’s movements. 

Adora’s words send a warmth not just to her own stomach, but to her heart. She gulps it down and keeps her focus on pleasing Adora. As they spend more and more time together, and as they get to know each other better, hooking up has started feeling a little less casual, and she...she doesn’t know what it means. She can tell she’s starting to have feelings for her, but what would it mean for her? For them? Relationships are difficult, complicated, and messy, but this? Being friends with Adora and hooking up with her? It’s so simple and straightforward and it’s just so much  _ easier _ not to have to worry about making  _ things _ work. 

She can just push these feelings aside. It’s not that hard. She’s done it before, and she can do it again. Why bother complicating things when things are good just the way they are?

Whether or not Adora feels the same about her isn’t even something she’s worried about. It’s just. Adora has her school shit to worry about, she has rugby to worry about, and she has to deal with adjusting to non-military life first before she should deal with  _ feelings _ . She cares about Adora, though, and she doesn’t want to hinder Adora in any way.

She doesn’t want to be a distraction to her.

And a relationship would most  _ definitely _ be a distraction. What they’re doing now is good and healthy, Catra tells herself. It helps fulfil a physical want and it alleviates some tension from their stressful lives.

She makes the mistake of looking up at Adora and meets her shining blue eyes. Her heart clutches, so Catra just closes her eyes and starts kissing down her body, all the way down to her clit. Her tongue flicks over the sensitive spot, and Adora lets out a sharp gasp. She feels Adora clench up around her a little, and her legs start pushing inwards, but Catra keeps them open with her shoulders and keeps going. 

“Fuck,” Adora groans, biting her lip, and she releases with a small shudder. Catra sucks her clit through her orgasm. She finally lets go with a tug once Adora stops trembling and pulls her fingers out of her.

“Was that okay?” she asks her. 

“That was more than okay,” Adora nods. She cocks her head and smirks. “Well, I’d say an eight out of ten.”

“An  _ eight? _ ” Catra squishes her hand against Adora’s face. 

“It wasn’t, like, life changing or anything.”

“Mm, sounded pretty life changing.”

Adora grows red. “Shut up.”

“It’s a good thing you don’t have any roommates.”

“If this is about Glimmer yelling at us—” 

“It’s not my fault I’m loud!”

“Mm, okay. Tell her that when—”

Catra climbs on top of Adora and kisses her, shutting her up, and the other girl relaxes beneath her. She lies on top of her and lets herself relish in the warmth of the embrace, closing her eyes and letting the rhythm of their breaths lull her back to sleep. 

This could be enough. 

* * *

It’s a pretty shitty day for a game. Today was cold and clammy, with a significant dip in the air pressure, at least according to Adora’s joints. There was no warmth to the field at all, no bright sun smiling down at them. It’s supposed to be the calm before the forecasted storm for the weekend, but Adora feels little other than calm.

The wet air fills Adora’s lungs and makes it a little harder to breathe. The ground sinks beneath her feet and squelches loudly with each step. Running on this field is going to be absolutely terrible today. She takes a deep breath and lets the air flow through her. This game will be okay. They’ve been doing well. They’ve been good at communicating with each other on the field, at reading the field and being able to anticipate and know where they’ll each be. Fuck, they haven’t lost a single game since their first.

(Although Harvard’s girls would definitely have gotten them last week if Catra hadn’t swooped in with a last minute try to turn the tides.

Now  _ that _ had been one hell of a game.)

She sighs. Everything should be fine, but the gnawing at her chest doesn’t stop. 

Her teammates drop their bags onto the bleachers and stretch. 

“Ready to kick some butt?” Frosta shouts, stomping on the ground and sending mud everywhere.

Scorpia throws her fists into the air and cheers. “Hell yeah!”

And just like that, her worries fade away, and she smiles. It may be gross, it may be a really shitty day, but her teammates are here with her, and that’s what matters. Sure, she’s still afraid of not being a good enough player and not scoring enough, but at least she doesn’t go all…

Adora shudders. It’s a form of herself that she absolutely despises. Coach Weaver had encouraged that form. She’d spent hours with Adora at extra practices trying to draw it out. Once she’d figured out just how anxious Adora was, how deathly  _ terrified _ she was of failure, it had instantly clicked. Before each game, Coach Weaver would degrade her and belittle her, trying to make her so anxious that she would automatically go into her fighting mode. It had worked, of course, and now, here she was, seeing a therapist weekly to undo all of that. 

Brown wins the coin toss, and their flyhalf kicks the ball off. One of their props catches it and heads off. It’s not long before Mermista takes her down and passes the ball swiftly to Entrapta, who passes it to Catra. Catra and Glimmer make one of their rehearsed plays down the field, and add Adora into the mix just before Glimmer gets tackled, letting Adora plow through about three girls. There’s moments here and there where Adora’s foot slips ever so slightly on the wet grass, but she always manages to keep her balance steady and pushes through.

She braces herself for the impact when she spots Brown’s prop running towards her. Instead of fighting her and trying to pry her off, Adora lets herself get tackled and forms a ruck, knowing that Entrapta will be there to fetch the ball. She crawls out from under the girl just in time to spot Glimmer crossing the end line and tapping the ball right in the middle of the goal post.

This play feels easy and familiar. It’s a good first play, and it always works, as long as everyone knows the routine. It’s not the rugby she’s used to, but it’s still a fun routine, and the games are always filled with so much action that it never gets boring.

She glances over at Bow, who gives her a thumbs up and cheers for the whole team. He’s responsible for orchestrating this whole scheme. A few weeks ago, he’d burst into the middle of their weekly tape session. He’d been knee-deep into theatre that week, spending nearly all of his time doing nothing but school and blocking the Theatre department’s production of  _ Phantom of the Opera _ , and none of them had seen him anywhere other than the auditorium, so it had been a pleasant surprise to see him so excited about the team. 

He’d suggested the idea of playing rugby like doing a dance in an ensemble piece _.  _

_ There’s a lead, _ he’d explained, gesturing to a clip of a bootleg Broadway recording he’d pulled up.  _ But everyone still moves as one fluid body. Everyone gets their time in front of the limelight, and we still know who the scene is about, but every single piece moves to make this scene work. _

_ So, what, you want us to dance? _

_ In spirit, yes. In reality, no. No dancing on the field. But each dance is different and moves differently. Your unified movement, though, doesn’t. _

(Honestly, all the artsy linguo confused Adora. Glimmer seemed to know what was going on, and Catra seemed to follow as well, despite barely paying attention. She’d just gotten them to explain it later that day, dumbing it down for her as much as they could.

_ Come on, you know we didn’t have theatre in the Academy! _ she’d said to them when they giggled.  _ Don’t be a dick. _

_ You know what this means, right? _ Glimmer said, giving her a grin.  _ Musical night! _

_ As long as it’s not Rocky Horror, I’m good. _ Catra said.

_ Boo, you’re no fun. _

_ Some of us actually have taste.) _

Coach Micah had laughed at first, but Bow kept arguing for it, standing by his guts, and Coach Angella had listened. It confused all the other teams to no end when suddenly it felt like their opposing team was moving in ways they hadn’t been before. It worked absolute wonders.

That is, once Angella actually translated everything Bow was telling them into concrete rugby strategy. 

This game is certainly no exception. Operation “Masquerade” goes perfectly, and Perfuma gets the ball past the line with ease, and Mara’s beautiful kick gets them the conversion. 

Even though the field is utter shit and it’s disgusting out, Adora’s really enjoying this game. In fact, this is probably the most free she’s felt playing rugby ever. This blooming warmth, this uplifting air...is this joy? 

She moves through the rest of the game with quick, light feet, feeling strong and grounded despite the soft ground sinking beneath her with each step. The team moves gracefully, even as Brown’s team keeps throwing themselves at them, and the ball swiftly moves down the field. 

Things get a little more interesting in the second half of the game. 

Mara kicks off and Huntara is in the perfect position to receive it. She snatches it out of the air and starts running, evading girls left and right. Huntara makes it surprisingly far, at least until Brown’s locks tackle her and bring her down. Their scrumhalf’s quick hands make swift movements and pass the ball to their eightman, who definitely looks like she can totally take the heat. 

Adora’s heard about this girl—the All-American who was rumored to go first in the draft, who ultimately took a gap year and was recruited by Brown’s rugby team. Coach Weaver wouldn’t shut up about her, about how she should’ve just gone pro when she had the chance, that she had no business wasting time with college sports. 

A little ironic, considering where she was working now.

But damn if Coach Weaver didn’t constantly compare Adora to her, didn’t berate her constantly, telling her she wasn’t even half the eightman that this other girl was, that she needed to work harder, that she would never amount to anything. It had hurt, and Adora had grown to resent her so deeply for being everything she couldn’t be. She’d always wondered what she’d do if they ever faced each other on the field; Brown hadn’t been in the same tier during her years with Horde, and this was her first time seeing her in action in the flesh.

But she watches her now and doesn’t feel a single ounce of resentment, and feels relieved that she didn’t ever see her on the field while playing with Horde. If she had, there’s a good chance she would’ve done something terrible to her, whether it be “sports related” or not. 

Well, Coach Weaver would’ve gotten her to, at least. Maybe she herself wouldn’t have gone out to hurt her, but Coach Weaver…

Adora clenches her jaw and runs after the other eightman, who ducks away from Entrapta’s reaches and pulls herself out of Glimmer’s grip. She watches as the girl shoves her hands back and into Netossa’s face, and her fingers suddenly slip into her mouth. Netossa grimaces and spits onto the grass. The referee immediately calls a penalty and they all jog to a stop.

Brown’s girls are dangerously close to the end line. If it hadn’t been for the penalty, there’s no doubt that the girl would’ve been able to get a try.

They face off, and Adora finds their scrums matched in strength. Their scrumhalf is a little quicker, though, and their eightman makes it past the end line easily.

It’s the first try Brown’s able to score against them. Her gaze meets the girl’s, and for a moment, Adora freezes, but she gives a smile and a thumbs up. The other girl smiles back and nods. 

“Getting friendly with the opponent, eh?” Glimmer teases, punching her in the warm lightly. 

“She’s like, my hero,” Adora babbles. “Well, kind of. Role model is more the right term. At least, until my old coach just…” Adora grimaces. “Anyways. She’s cool.”

“She’s amazing,” Scorpia bursts. “I can’t believe we get to play with her.  _ Against _ her.”

“Yeah, she is,” Catra agrees. “But you’re also an amazing eightman, and don’t you forget it.”

They make their way back to their positions, and Adora’s focus locks in once again. She takes a deep breath and rolls her shoulders back. She cracks her neck and watches as Mara kicks off. 

This time, Adora gets the ball, and she sprints. The eightman is immediately on her heels, and she tackles her just as Adora passes the ball back to Frosta, who simply jumps over a bunch of girls diving towards her and keeps going. Glimmer should be getting the ball next, and sure enough, she does. The eightman chases her from her right. Adora runs to her left, and receives the ball with quick hands.

But just as she crosses into the last zone, one of Brown’s wingers jumps onto her, startling her. She’s strong, but she’s light. Adora catches the eightman and the locks heading towards her out of the corner of her eye. Catra nods at her as well. 

“You got this,” she mouths at her.

She can do one of two things: she can try to fight her off, or…

_ This better work.  _

Adora takes a breath and wraps one arm around the other girl’s legs and hoists her up onto her shoulder. She sprints through the muddy field, carrying both the winger and the ball towards the end line, and makes it just in time as she gets tackled by a prop.

An unfamiliar hand reaches towards her. Adora looks up and finds herself face to face with the eightman. “That was one awesome move, dude,” she compliments her. “I haven’t seen that one in forever.”

“Thanks,” Adora says, grinning and taking her hand. She pulls her up with ease, barely straining, and Adora thinks she’s never going to wash her hands ever again.

(Well, mentally, that is. They’re so caked in mud that she can feel the top layer cracking as she curls her fingers.)

Even though they’re exhausted, Etheria’s team pushes through. When they win, Adora doesn’t look up at the score. She doesn’t look for a reason to be angry with herself. Coach Weaver’s dark voice doesn’t scream in her head, telling her that she didn’t do well enough. Instead, she joins the team huddle and genuinely means it when she walks down the field to give the other team their share of high-fives and “good game”s. She nods and grins when she gets to the eightman, who returns the nod.

She stands by the bleachers and takes a drink from her water bottle. The sky above is still grey and cloudy, and the air now even thicker than it was before the game. The gnawing at her chest returns, weaker than before, but still enough to make her uncomfortable. Was it just the weather? She stares at a particularly thick cloud above her. When will the storm come? 

A shoulder bump shakes her out of her head. “Hey,” Catra says. “You look happy.”

Adora puts a hand on Catra’s shoulder and squeezes gently. “Yeah,” she admits, smiling. “Yeah, I am,” she says again, nodding. 

Catra’s eyes flicker with something briefly before her face lights up with a smile. “I’m glad. Today was a good game.” 

“I’m starting to love playing again,” Adora grins. “It’s actually…”

“Fun?” Catra pulls away from Adora, crosses her arms and smirks. “The way it should be?”

Adora rolls her eyes. “Oh, shut up.”

“Growing soft, I see.”

“And what if I am?”

“Then I’d say you deserve it.” Catra shoots her a look. “Not because I like you or anything. Just because, I don’t know, you’re not a shitty person.”

Adora’s cheeks warm a little and she reaches for Catra’s hands. “I’m glad we’re friends,” she says softly, cradling her soft hands. “I—”

Lighting flashes, and thunder follows quickly. Rain starts to fall from the sky and starts dripping on her. Adora lets go of Catra’s hands and brushes the first few drops off of her face. 

“Well, there’s the storm, I guess,” Catra says, grabbing her bag and walking to the bus.

“The storm, huh,” Adora mumbles. She grabs her bag as well, but she lingers outside for a bit, letting the rain hit her over and over again as the drops get heavier and heavier. 

* * *

“Why do desserts hate me?” Adora groans. She tries to wipe a booger of dough stuck to her shirt, clearly forgetting about the flour all over her hands, and sends flour all over herself and the floor. Her nostrils flare, and Catra can’t help but cackle as she stirs the contents of the saucepan. “Great.”

Catra snorts at Adora. Adora’s clumsiness in the kitchen will never get old. It’s kind of cute, actually, especially when she gets random dough bits on her face and tries to lick it off, like she does now. “Oh my god, I can’t believe you’re  _ still _ being bested by  _ pastry.” _

Adora flicks Catra’s arm with a floury hand and a fine layer of flour settles on her skin and clothes.

“Hey!” she says, tossing a spare blueberry at Adora. It hits Adora’s forehead and bounces off and somehow, Adora manages to catch it in her mouth. “Oh, so you can do  _ that, _ but you can’t mix together some dough?”

“My hands are too warm for this!”

“Really?” Catra crosses her arms and leans against the counter. She wipes her hands on a towel and grabs Adora’s hands. It’s distracting, how soft they are, and knowing just how skilled they are, and for a moment she lets herself believe the warmth in her cheeks is just because of how warm Adora’s hands are against her own skin, even though her hands are nowhere near her face. She gives Adora her hands back. “Okay, they are a little warm.”

“Told you so.”

“Doesn’t excuse the terrible dough handling.”

“Terrible—” Adora huffs. “Oh, you want to see dough handling? I’ll show you dough handling, alright.” She scoops up the dough.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

Adora walks closer to her with a dangerous glint in her eyes. “You sure about that?”

“Do it, then.”

Adora twists her arm back, preparing to fling it. Catra shuts her eyes, only to be met with a handful of flour. “Bap!”

Catra coughs and blows the flour out of her face and blinks. Adora’s hand hovers in front of her face, and the dough remains in her other hand, safe and sound. “Oh, how clever.”

The other girl gives her a huge, goofy smile and laughs. Her laugh is contagious, and before she knows it, she’s laughing like an idiot as well, and something dangerous stirs in Catra’s chest. She can’t help that Adora looks so beautiful, even with flour all over her and her hair a mess. Fuck, somehow, being messy makes her even more attractive. In all the laughter, she doesn’t realize just how close she’s gotten to Adora, and when she finally opens her eyes again, she finds herself nearly nose to nose with the girl. 

It would be so easy to kiss her right now.

It’s not like they haven’t kissed before, but this—this would be different. This isn’t some social situation, this isn’t a regular planned hookup or anything. This...it’s too charged, and not in the same way it usually is.

This isn’t good. 

And she so desperately  _ wants _ to. She so desperately wants to just clasp her hands behind Adora’s head and pull her towards her, pull their lips together, and Adora’s giving her this  _ look _ and maybe, and maybe this can be a thing, maybe she feels the same way as she does, and maybe they  _ can _ be together. 

It’s just so  _ easy _ when they’re together, and the more time they spend together, especially on this project...it makes her feel like this...whatever it is...could bloom into something else. 

Maybe they can make it work. Adora’s grown so much already.

They’re so close together that Adora’s breath shifts some of the flour off of her nose. Her eyes shine so brightly, brighter than Catra’s ever seen them, and if she could just...lean a little closer…

She closes her eyes and lets herself take a moment, but she catches the scent of something burning and her eyes snap back open. She jerks away from Adora and turns around.

“Fuck! The filling!” Catra yelps, turning the stove off and moving the saucepan off of the burner. She sighs and puts her hands on her hips. “Well, I think some of this is salvageable.”

If only she hadn’t been so distracted. 

“Here, I can try the filling if you want to go for the dough this time,” Adora offers. 

“Do you just want to try again tomorrow?” Catra asks, yawning. “It’s getting pretty late.”

Adora looks at the sad pile of dough in her hands and sighs. “Yeah. I’m actually pretty tired. Let’s clean up and head to bed.”

Catra freezes. It was so nonchalant, coming out of Adora’s mouth, like she was just telling her about her classes, like it was natural, like this was something they did. 

It is what they did, isn’t it? They would go about their day, and then sleep together, but...but not like this.

It’s usually not so domestic.

“You want me to stay over?” she whispers.

Adora’s eyes widen when Catra points out what she said and Catra’s heart sinks.. “Wait, I—I didn’t mean, well, like, I didn’t  _ not _ mean, I just…if you want, I mean, I didn’t—don’t mean to assume anything, of course you’re allowed to do what you want, and—” 

Catra laughs, hoping to clear the thick air. “I’ll stay.”

“Okay,” Adora exhales. 

After they clean the mess in the kitchen—and after learning that flour really gets  _ everywhere _ —they make their way to Adora’s room and Adora changes. It’s not like Catra hasn’t seen her unclothed before, but right now, she feels like she shouldn’t be looking at her, like she’s invading a private space. She looks away and strips out of her shirt, leaving only her bra and some boxer briefs. 

She crawls into Adora’s bed like she’s done a bunch of times at this point, and Adora joins her soon after. Catra silently prays that Adora can’t hear her heart hammering against her ribcage. 

“You okay?”  _ Damn it. _

Catra stares up at the ceiling. “Yeah. Just thinking about...the pie.”

The sheets shift as Adora rolls over and Catra’s cheeks burn up as Adora’s eyes gloss over her. Her pinkie grazes over Adora’s, and slowly, inch by inch, their hands entwine under the covers. She finally rolls over, facing Adora, and their faces are even closer than they were in the kitchen, the tips of their noses touching now. 

This...this is so charged, and it  _ hurts. _ She  _ wants _ this girl like no one else she’s ever wanted. It’s not lust, this time—she’s frankly too tired for anything too physical. But the thought of letting herself have her makes her want to cry and she—she can’t cry. Not in front of Adora. 

Instead of leaning forward and closing the gap between their lips, as she’s done countless times, she ducks her head under Adora’s chin and lets Adora pull her close.

Friends don’t kiss with emotional attachments, but friends can cuddle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope y'all enjoyed. we've got some yearning here, and next chapter will be 👀 very interesting


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey y'all! it's been a while, huh? school has been kicking my butt, and I also wanted to make sure i did this chapter justice - a lot happens. I hope you enjoy it. 
> 
> cw: panic attack, cw: implied suicide, cw: anxiety

Adora decides that she really enjoys using the strap with Catra. She really enjoys tasting her and feeling her twitch with every movement of her tongue, but thrusting into Catra with powerful motions as Catra claws her back and bites her neck is absolutely blissful. When they’d started using it, she was reluctant at first, scared to hurt the other girl, but Catra seemed to enjoy rhythmically pounding into her. 

She slows her pace a little, taking time to slip in and out of her, making sure to drag every grumble from Catra’s throat as she moans in her ear. Adora puts her hands on either side of Catra’s shoulders and holds herself up as she fucks Catra, looking at the girl beneath her. She can’t help but notice just how beautiful she looks, the way her skin glistens with a thin layer of sweat and the delicious way she bites her lip and tries (and fails) to muffle her groans. She traces her thumb over Catra’s freckles which she’s always found extremely attractive. Catra’s eyes flutter open and meet hers, and Adora feels this clench in her chest that she can’t explain.

She’s pretty sure she knows what it means, but it’s not really like she can do much about it. Why would Catra even want her? She’s broken. Catra’s too good for her. All Adora can do for her is just get her off physically, and there’s no point in trying to want more than this right now. 

Above the headboard sits a medal from her high school rugby days, glimmering gold in the sliver of light shining through the window. It stares at her, almost taunting her about the choices she’s allowed to make. 

Part of her wishes she was back at Horde Academy, because there, she wasn’t allowed to want at all. Now, she wants, but she doesn’t deserve, and there’s no one to blame but herself. There is no Coach telling her that she doesn’t get to choose; rather it’s quite the opposite. All her friends around her tell her that what she wants matters, that she’s allowed to want, and never,  _ ever _ have they been anything but supportive of her needs—that is, when she vocalizes them. Sometimes it’s just easier to suck it up and go on with some discomfort. Everything eventually ends, and what’s another day of this? Fuck, she got through years of military school and bullshit. Surely she can get through these feelings. 

It’s okay. It’s going to be okay. She just needs to pretend it’s fine, and get through day by day. She just needs to believe that it’ll all be worth it someday, that this torture will be over. She doesn’t want to be a burden on anyone. That’s what her therapist is for. Just compartmentalize everything. Separate her emotions from the rest of her life. It’s easier that way. It always has been.

Catra’s eyes close and Adora gets an idea. She pulls out of Catra completely and the girl whines with the loss and then yelps when Adora sits up and picks her up.

“What are you doing?” she asks her.

“I want to try something,” Adora murmurs in her ear. She pulls Catra into her lap first, facing away from her, and then grabs onto the shaft of the strap-on and places it right onto Catra’s slick folds. Holding Catra’s hips steady, she slowly slides in again, and brings a hand around to Catra’s clit. She wraps the other arm around Catra’s abdomen and holds onto her as she presses the strap-on into her and rubs her clit with the other hand. 

“Fuck!” Catra cries out, and she bucks into each of Adora’s thrusts. 

Catra’s breath quickens and her abdomen tenses. Adora slows down a little before speeding up suddenly, and Catra comes with Adora still inside of her. Adora presses her mouth to the back of her neck and rocks gently. 

“That felt good,” Catra murmurs. 

“Yeah?” Adora mumbles against her neck.

“I love you.”

Both of them freeze for a moment. Adora’s not sure who moves first, but seconds later they’re sitting on opposite sides of the bed, looking away from each other. 

What is she supposed to say in response? She could, of course, also admit that she loves her too, that she loves spending time with her, that there’s been no one else like her in her life that makes her feel the way Catra does, but...but that… 

“I don’t need you to say anything back,” Catra says, breaking the silence.

Adora shudders and clenches her jaw. She wants to say something back to her. She could, couldn’t she? She could just open her mouth, open her heart, and just be honest with herself…

A chill washes over Adora, ghosting over her cheek, and suddenly, Adora’s back at Horde Academy, in Coach Weaver’s office, sitting in that all-too-familiar wooden chair. 

“It’s not about what you want, Adora,” Coach Weaver coos in her ear. “Remember that, child.” 

It isn’t, is it? Her friends might be telling her that what she wants matters, but maybe the reason she can’t even vocalize most of her needs is because she just doesn’t deserve them to be acknowledged, and much less her wants. What happened when she actually went for what she wanted? This messy friends-with-benefits situation with a girl she ended up falling in love with? She’s been scoring less and less for the team, and she’s actually been... _ afraid _ to just take risks on the field. Sure, she’s comfortable on the field, and she trusts her teammates, but maybe she’s too trusting. She’s known them for, what, two months? Does she have any concrete proof that she can trust them for sure? Maybe they’re just playing her, the same way Coach Weaver did. 

What makes her new teammates any different from Coach Weaver? Who’s to say anyone would stick around once she’s done being of use to them? At the end of the day, she’s just a rugby player. She’s not that special otherwise. 

But Catra’s not like that. 

Somehow, that makes it worse. Does she  _ pity _ her? She doesn’t want someone to feel  _ pitied _ into loving her. 

Adora shivers and wraps her arms around herself, suddenly aware of how cold it is in the room without Catra pressed up against her. “Catra, I—” Her throat clenches as she remembers Coach Weaver’s fingers run through her hair, scratching the back of her head. “I can’t do this, Catra.”

Catra sighs and the bed squeaks as she stands up. “I know.”

Her heart deflates.  _ She knows? _ “I just have to do...school, and rugby, and—and—” She blabbers, letting words just fall out of her mouth.

“It’s okay, Adora, I’m not mad at you,” Catra says, but her tone says otherwise. She’s hurt, and she’s not being the same warm she always is, and Adora definitely, definitely fucked up. “I get it. It’s not your fault if you don’t feel the same. I’m going to go now, okay?” 

“No, wait, what?” Adora blinks at her. “No, Catra, stay.”

“And do what?” Catra asks her, throwing her shirt back on. “I love you, okay? I’ve been loving you. And you can’t do this. So what do you want me to do, try and make you do what I think I want you to do? I can’t make you feel what I feel for you.”

“It’s not that you’re not important to me, Catra, you—you’re so important to me.” Adora reaches out towards Catra and pulls her hand back. “I need you, Catra,” she whispers.

Catra freezes. She turns back to Adora with an indescribable look in her face. Her eyes squeeze shut and she huffs. “Stop. Don’t say that. I don’t want that. You don’t get to do this.”

She panics. “Do what? I’m not—I’m not doing anything!”

“I’m not just someone you get to keep around because it’s convenient. You don’t get to take advantage of how I feel to get what you want,” Catra sighs, and Adora’s heart squeezes. “I’m going to go, Adora. You figure out what you need. But this has to end.”

With that, Catra leaves the room, leaving Adora in her room by herself. It’s quieter. Lonely.

Of course she’s alone now. What else did she expect? 

Maybe the problem isn’t other people, but her. Maybe she was the one using Catra all along. Maybe she’s the parasite. 

Adora curls back into the bed just as the door downstairs shuts and she pulls the covers up to her nose. It still smells like Catra, and Adora feels this pang in her chest, an aching that squeezes at her muscles and almost closes up her throat. She clutches her chest and scratches the skin, trying to get the pressure to go away, but it doesn’t stop, and she keeps scratching, and scratching, and her eyes start to well with tears for the first time in years.

Coming here, coming to this school and meeting her new team, her new family...it’s some of the best things that have ever happened her entire life. But meeting Catra, getting to know her, spending time with her...it was like finding a part of her she didn’t realize she was missing. She doesn’t need Catra the way a fish needs water, and yet, when she’s with her, it’s like she can finally breathe the way she was always meant to.

And now she can’t breathe at all.

She pants and pants and her nose is running and her throat is choking and she’s starting to lose sensation in the extremes of her fingers. Her mouth starts to dry up as air flows in and out of her lungs too quickly for her body to properly process. She drags a trembling hand up towards her hair. She runs stiff fingers through her hair, letting her fingertips press against her head as gently as she can. 

Adora quietly sobs into the blankets and lets the darkness of the room lull her back to sleep. 

There’s no use going to practice like this. There’s no use doing anything like this.

* * *

It’s been a few days since she’s last spoken to Adora. She missed a few practices, but she showed up this morning, all silent and gloomy. She wouldn’t even make eye contact with Catra. Not that Catra was looking at her. Definitely not.

It hurts, seeing the girl she loves look so dark, especially after she’s seen the sort of bright she’s capable of bringing to everyone around her. To Catra, whose life was a mundane purgatory of work and practice. 

She’s not sorry for leaving Adora that morning. Why would she stay, when Adora doesn’t feel the same about her? Or, well, doesn’t want her the same way she wants her?

An insistent rapping at the door shocks Catra awake. “What?” she yells, sitting up in her bed. 

“Open up, we gotta chat!” Glimmer yells from behind the door, and boy, does she  _ yell. _

Catra groans and gets out of her bed and swings open the door to find herself face to face with a red-faced Glimmer with tousled up hair and clenched fists. The girl shoves her shoulders. 

“Bitch, what the fuck?” Catra asks, wincing a little before shoving Glimmer back. “What was that for?”

“What did you do to Adora?” Glimmer seethes. 

Catra can’t believe her ears. “What did  _ I _ do to Adora?” Catra yells back. “ _ I _ didn’t do anything.”

“She’s all moody, sad, and won’t talk to me or Bow. She barely shows up to practice, and when she does, she refuses to look at anyone, and she avoids you completely. What’s her deal?”

“How would I know? She hasn’t talked to me, either!” Catra huffs. “It’s great knowing that my best friend assumes the worst of me!”

Glimmer takes a breath. “I’m sorry, you’re right, that wasn’t fair of me. It’s just...you’ve been quiet lately, and I feel like you’ve been a lot more closed off these past few months, more than usual. Are you okay? What’s going on?”

Catra snorts. “Of course I’m not. But it’s nothing I can’t handle.”

“Catra, we can’t read your mind. How are we supposed to know what you need if you don’t tell us?”

“Maybe I don’t need anything! I’m fine. Life is life, and we get through it.”

“You know we’re here. We’re your family.”

“I said I’m fine.”

“Ugh!” Glimmer slams her fist on Catra’s door. “Look! You can’t keep doing this. I thought you were getting better about this! You need to stop pushing everyone away when something gets difficult, and learn how to verbalize how you’re actually feeling instead of rejecting what you feel!”

“Verbalize how I’m feeling?” Catra early laughs. “This is happening  _ because _ I verbalized what I was feeling. I don’t fucking know what Adora told you, but I told her how I felt about her, and she doesn’t want me, and so that’s that!”

Glimmer’s eyes go wide. “Catra, I’m—”

Catra holds her hand up to Glimmer. “I don’t want pity. I’m handling it.”

“Really? You call  _ this _ —” Glimmer vaguely gestures at the mess in Catra’s room—the papers all over the desk, the stray clothes sitting in piles all over the floor, the books shoved into the shelves haphazardly, “— _ handling _ it?”

“What am I supposed to do, Glimmer? Sit and mope about it? No! Life goes on, I still have classes, and I’m not going to fall behind just because I’m  _ feeling _ things.”

“I get that, okay, Catra? I get that. But you don’t have to do this alone.”

“I don’t know what I need, okay?” Catra finally bursts. “It’s not. It’s not even that I don’t want support. If I knew, I would ask.”

“Would you?”

“Okay, fair. But I only know what I wish was ideal, and it’s not like…” Catra trails off and sits down on her bed. “I can’t make someone love me, you know? I can’t force her to feel the same way about me.”

“Catra—”

“She doesn’t want me, okay?” Catra says, her voice cracking ever so slightly. “Not like I want her.”

Glimmer sits down next to her and rubs her back. “I’m sorry for assuming the worst. I’m still new to the whole holding-my-friends-accountable thing, and it’s hard for me to tell the difference between calling my friends in and simply criticizing them.”

“Yeah, clearly,” Catra says, rolling her eyes. She drops her head onto Glimmer’s shoulder. “I appreciate that you’re trying, though.”

“Well, it’s the only thing we rugby gals can do, you know? All we can do is try.”

Catra groans and takes a sharp breath in as Glimmer’s body shakes from laughter. “You are so much like your dad.”

“Thanks, I... _ try. _ ”

“Okay, Sparkles, we get it. That’s enough.”

“I’m proud of you, by the way.”

She sits up and looks at her friend, confused. “For what?”

“For admitting how you feel to Adora. I was wondering who would crack first.”

Catra’s eyes narrow. “Crack  _ first?  _ What do you mean crack  _ first.” _

“Oh my god, I forgot that you’re both useless lesbians.”

“Sparkles.”

“Adora is so clearly into you. She likes you, you idiot.”

Catra grips her sheets. Adora feels the same way about her? But then, why...why stop what they had going? What was the problem? Did she do something? “Well, it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t change the fact that she doesn’t want to do this anymore. Whatever it was.”

Glimmer takes a deep breath. “I don’t know what’s up with her. I just…” Glimmer looks right at Catra, their eyes meeting in an intense, sincere gaze. “I just hope she figures it out. I care about you both, and I hate seeing you hurt.” She shrugs and stands up. “I’ll get out of your hair.” She walks out the door and moves to close it behind her, but pauses for a moment. She peeks her head back into the room. “Thanks for talking with me.”

“I didn’t really have a choice.”

“That’s true, but you didn’t completely close yourself off like you would’ve last year. I’m proud of you.”

“And hey, Spark—hey, Glimmer?” Catra corrects herself. Glimmer cocks an eyebrow. “You’re getting better at calling your friends in. I appreciate that you’re working on it. A lot. You’re a great friend.”

Glimmer smiles back at her and then exits. Catra flops back onto her bed. If what Glimmer said is true, and Adora has feelings for her...what is her problem? What, is it some issue with being unable to accept love? Some trauma that makes her believe that she’s not capable of loving or deserving of love? 

She grabs a pillow and screams into it. She opened up to Adora. She told her how she felt. She put herself out there, she was vulnerable, and honest, and all she got was, in essence, a pseudo-beakup and the silent treatment. When she’s with Adora, she’s comfortable, she’s cool, and she feels so calm. But now, all that is gone, and instead, the thought of seeing Adora at all fills her with dread. 

* * *

It definitely feels like the world is out to make fun of her when she wakes up and sees a gorgeous day outside. Sunlight bounces off of the colorful leaves that line the trees on the side of the road, creating a picturesque scene outside her window suited for an Instagram post. And of course she’d wake up perfectly on time, two minutes before her alarm goes off, and of course she physically feels fine.

When she climbs on the bus, she doesn’t make direct eye contact with any of her teammates, and her earpods stay in for the entire hour and half drive as she stares out the window. The bass and drums in the songs don’t excite her like they usually do, and instead, they’re almost dull in her head, like a nagging thought more than actual music. She could take them out, but she’d rather feel something than have to be alone with her own thoughts.

Today is just another game, she tells herself, just another game. 

Adora can vaguely hear the sound of her teammates’ laughter over the music. Perhaps they’re laughing about her, thinking about how she was so foolish to trust them. Perhaps they’re plotting some sick prank on her. They claim they’re family, that they care about her...but do they? If she wasn’t their eight man, would they even notice her at all? Would anyone?

Who is she if not what she can do for the team?

She chuckles sadly. Her therapist would be so disappointed in her, but what would it matter? Everyone around her can  _ claim _ that she matters because she’s  _ Adora _ , but she knows the truth—that it’s just something people say to make people feel better. 

And she’s not in the business of feeling better. She wants nothing but the truth, and the truth is simply that she does not matter. She’s alone in this lonely, lonely world and there’s nothing that changes that.

She sinks lower into her seat and closes her eyes. Weaver was right. She’s not meant for anything else. She’s lost without her. She’s good at nothing but following orders. 

Maybe college wasn’t the right choice for her. Interacting with people who didn’t grow up in a military state is really different, and she’s still not sure it’s in a good way. There’s something about her that’s broken and will forever be, no matter how hard she tries, so why bother pretending? 

It’s time to face the real world—not the one she’s constructed in her head, but the one she lives in—and just do for her team what she does best. She may be worthless as a teammate, but she sure is great as a battering ram, and if this battering ram can get some tries in, then this battering ram is worth keeping around.

She’s not holding back anymore.

And she doesn’t.

On the field, she runs around like a madman. Flashes of white and dark green shuffle past her. She can’t hear much other than the blood pounding in her ears. She spots the ball and she runs like her life depends on it, pushing aside her legs’ plea to slow down and swallowing the taste of blood in the back of her throat.

Adora runs headfirst into a girl and sends her tumbling to the ground. The ball lands on the grass, but it barely lasts seconds on the ground. She yanks it from the ground and sprints towards the end line. There’s a few people shouting at her, some people passing by her, but she can’t really parse anything they’re saying, and she doesn’t really care. Just as she makes it to the line, a girl tackles her, and Adora goes flying forward and manages to hold onto the ball as she lands face first into the ground.

She groans and clutches her side, but the whistle blows and the try is deemed valid. The points are awarded. Adora gets right up and runs back to her teammates, ignoring the gentle throb in her ribs. Mara doesn’t get the conversion, but it doesn’t matter, not when Adora scores another try within the next few minutes. The other team doesn’t even try to stop her this time, and she walks away feeling somewhat satisfied with her performance. 

As she walks back to her position, she clears her throat and spits onto the side of the field. It’s got spots of blood in it, and she’s feeling a little dizzy, but she’s running on the high of scoring points and brushes it aside easily, even though parts of her body beg for her to rest.

Adora cracks her neck as she stands in position, waiting for the whistle. Someone’s hand lands on her shoulder, gentle but firm. Her head immediately snaps towards them and they flinch back a little. She desperately, desperately hopes it’s not Catra. She really doesn’t need that right now. 

It’s not Catra; it’s Bow. “You okay, Adora?” he asks, squeezing her shoulder.

She grunts a little and pulls away from him. “Yeah, why?”

“You’re just...kinda off. What’s going on?”

She shrugs. “Nothing, I’m fine.”

Bow’s eyebrows knit together and he takes a step closer to her. “Adora—”

“Leave me alone, Bow, we’re in the middle of a game,” Adora says, taking a step back. “Get off the field.”

“Don’t talk to Bow like that!” Glimmer shouts, appearing at their side. She yanks Bow away from Adora. “Dude, what’s your problem?”

Adora stares right ahead and lets her vision blur. There’s no use trying to explain it, especially not now, not when she has to prove she’s worth something. She cracks her knuckles. “Let’s play this game.”

Glimmer looks furious, but she shuts her mouth and goes to the back.

She takes a deep breath and focuses on the field, honing in on the opponents. The ball gets kicked off and their lock takes possession and starts running off with it. Mermista is already rushing for the girl, but while the lock is busy avoiding Mermista, Scorpia runs in and tackles her, getting the ball for their team. Adora follows behind her, ready to receive the ball.

But Scorpia nods at Glimmer, who receives the ball from her from her other side instead. Glimmer dashes off, and Catra’s quick to follow behind her. Adora watches Glimmer and Catra run off together, and Adora brushes away any nagging thoughts and follows the pair. She carefully watches the field, analyzing the players’ positions to determine the optimal path.

Her heart clenches when she spots the other team’s eight man booking it across the field towards Catra as Glimmer neatly passes the ball to her. Without a second thought, Adora yelps and throws her body in front of her. She feels the other girl’s skull collide with her abdomen first, and then the force sandwiching her between the girl’s full weight and the ground’s reaction. 

It hurts, but at least...at least no one else got hurt.

Adora closes her eyes and makes no effort to get up. She just lies there on the ground when the other girl gets up, letting her face sink into the mud and grass while her teammates score another try. Her head pounds a little, but it’s definitely not a concussion.

A figure stands over her. “Adora,” they say, and Adora very nearly flinches. “Adora!”

“Ugh, what?” she says, opening her eyes and groaning. Catra looks down at her with furrowed eyebrows. 

“We scored. We have to get back to our side. Come on, I’ll help you up.”

The girl offers her a hand. Adora sits up and pushes herself onto her feet by herself, ignoring the offer. 

Catra scoffs and withdraws her hand. “Dude, what’s your problem?” 

“Why does everyone keep asking me that?!” Adora shouts. 

“Because you’re not acting like yourself, Adora!” Catra hisses, taking a step closer to Adora. Adora holds her breath. “What’s gotten into you? What happened?”

“You know what happened.”

Catra recoils and gives her a tight-lipped smile. “Uh, yeah, and you just pushed everyone away.”

“Oh, so it’s my fault.”

“Did something happen? Did we  _ do _ something, Adora?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Adora! Ugh! Whatever’s happening between us, let’s just put it aside for one game. This is affecting the way you’re playing. What was that earlier? You can’t throw yourself in front of people like that.”

Adora huffs. “A thank you would be nice.”

Catra’s eyes widen. “I—” She scoffs. “Dude. You could’ve been  _ hurt. _ You’re  _ lucky _ you don’t have a concussion. So fucking—” Catra shoves her by the shoulders. “So fucking  _ stop. _ You’re not helping anyone by letting yourself get hurt.”

“Better me than you.”

“Is that what you want?”

“It’s what I have to do.”

“No, it’s not!” Catra growls and clenches her fists. “God, why are you like this?”

“Because it’s the only thing I can do!” Adora yells in her face. “I know you’re all laughing at me. I know you’re all making fun of me behind my back! So just—” Adora exhales. “Just let me prove I can be useful.”

She storms off to her position. The kickoff starts the next play, and Adora takes a deep breath before she runs after one of the other teams locks who holds the ball tightly in her hands. The girl’s running a little funny, though, almost like she’s favoring her left ankle, the same way that Spinnerella does...

Adora dives and tackles the girl around her midsection so that the girl crumbles from her knees instead of her ankles. She’s not a monster, after all. The ball flies out of her hands and Glimmer comes along and scoops it up. Adora follows her, looking around to make sure she’s not in immediate tackling range of any of the other team’s girls. 

Adora knows Catra’s right behind them, but this time, she’s not going to wait up for her like she usually does. She can’t let her feelings get in the way of her game. 

But then Glimmer passes the ball back not to her, but to Catra, and Adora sees a blur in the corner of her eye. Catra’s sprinting full force ahead, preparing to dodge through the line of forwards in front of them. Without thinking, Adora yells and throws herself in front of a forward who lunges for Catra. The forward tackles her, and Adora goes down again, and Catra stops running briefly to glance at her, her face full of worry. She tosses the ball back to Glimmer and runs to Adora. 

“Get up,” Catra seethes. She’s shaking and looks pale. “Get the fuck up.”

“Yeah, you’re welcome.” Adora stands up. Something drips down the side of her face and off of her chin. Sweat? She looks down. Her hands are smeared with brown and red. “What…?”

The whistle blows. Glimmer’s scored a try. Micah walks over to Adora and crosses his arms, his eyes dark. “You’re done for today,” he tells her firmly.

“What? Why?” Adora asks wiping the blood on her shorts, which turn red. She grimaces. “Nothing hurts.”

“You’re a wonderful player, Adora, you don’t need me to tell you that,” Micah starts, “But you’re making choices on the field that are dangerous. You’re making choices that are harmful to you—”

“I’m fine,” she interrupts.

“—and the other girls. This is not your game,” Micah sighs and starts walking towards the bench. “Come on.”

Adora grumbles and follows him, dragging her feet along. There’s no use arguing right now. Another drop of blood drips from her chin. She wipes it off with the back of her hand and sits on the bench.

“Look, Adora, I don’t know what’s going on with you,” Micah says, sitting next to her. “And I, well—”

“You want me to talk to you?”

He shakes his head. “No, you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. You have your private life, and I’m just here to support you. We all need different things, and I don’t know what you need, but…” He sighs and looks at her with kind eyes. “We love you. You’re our family. You’re a part of this team, thick and thin. We got your back.”

Adora bites her lip and looks away from him, embarrassed. She’s wrong. This team, they’re nothing like her old team. They’re nothing like Coach Weaver, they’re not here to use her. 

She  _ knows _ this, but she can’t believe it. Her chest grows tight and she curls her hand into a fist. 

“Also, come on, let’s go get you cleaned up.”

“It’s probably only a cut, Micah.”

“A cut’s a cut. Still have to take care of it.”

Later, on the bus, she leans against her window and stares out at the road as they zip down the highway. Catra taps her on the shoulder and sits down next to her. Adora has to stop herself from scowling.

“Hi,” Adora gulps.

“Hi.”

“What’s up?” She looks up at Catra, whose eyes shine even in the dim light of the bus. She’s beautiful, even after an exhausting game, even when she’s sweaty and gross. Adora fiddles with her hands. She needs to figure this out soon.

Catra looks at her. “I don’t know what I did to you, Adora,” she says softly. “But you have got to stop jumping in front of me during games. If I’m going to get tackled, I get tackled. It’s part of the game.”

Adora cocks an eyebrow at her. “Yeah, I know.”

“Then why do you keep doing it?”

She dips her head and looks at the headrest of the seat in front of her. “I—look, I know it’s not healthy, and I know I shouldn’t do it, okay? It’s just…”

She looks over at Catra, but instead of being face to face with beautiful blue and green eyes, she finds herself with a menacing, dark sneer. She gasps and jumps back. 

“Woah, woah, are you okay?” Catra’s face returns. She reaches out to Adora and gently holds her hands. “It’s just me. We’re on the bus. We’re going home.”

Adora’s trembling and she’s sure that her hands are cold and clammy, but she grips onto Catra’s hands anyways and nods. She squeezes her eyes shut. “Catra, I’m just...why would you love me? I’m not anything to love.”

“You’re such an idiot,” Catra chuckles softly. “I...can’t explain it other than just describing how I feel.

“When I’m with you, I feel calm. I don’t feel invincible, but I feel like I can take on so much more when I’m around you. You just...get me in a way that no one else ever has.”

The bus lurches and Catra gets thrown into Adora’s lap. “Sorry,” Catra says, scooting off of her. Adora’s glad it’s dark on the bus so that no one can see her face growing pinker by the second. 

Adora stares at her silently. “I do it because I’m trying to protect you,” she murmurs.

“I don’t need you to protect me,” Catra sighs. “I don’t  _ want _ you to protect me.”

“What do you want, then?”

Catra gives her a sad crooked smile. “Adora, you’ve got it backwards. What do  _ you _ want?”

_ You. _

Adora looks away. “I—it doesn’t matter, Catra,” she mumbles. She leans against the window. “I’m sorry.”

“It does, Adora, it matters to me,” Catra lets out a deep breath. “But something tells me that you don’t believe that.” She feels Catra deflate and move back to her seat, undoubtedly disappointed in her, yet again. 

Catra’s right, and it hurts, it hurts so much. What has she done for anyone? Why would she make anyone calm when she’s nothing but a ball of nerves? 

She really needs to punch something.

* * *

She hits the training dummy over and over, until a sharp pain pricks her side. Adora cires out and falls to the ground. Grunting, she pulls herself up and kicks again. 

“Adora.” She freezes up for a moment, but continues to hit the dummy. “Adora, stop.”

A gentle hand touches her shoulder. Adora immediately crumples and she starts sobbing. “Please, just leave me alone.”

“I would, but I kind of can’t,” says the person. Adora turns around.

It’s Mara, her eyes clear and a soft smile on her lips. Of course she’d catch her like this. She prepares herself for the pity talk, the “you can always talk to me about anything” talk. There’s nothing objectively wrong with it, and theoretically, she understands the value and she appreciates it, but in practice she hates it. Maybe it’s because that’s how Coach Weaver would entice her to talk, even when she really didn’t want to. Things are complicated with her. There’s no telling just how much she’s destroyed Adora’s mental health, but at least she’s not an active presence anymore.

“Even I don’t like being out here in the dead of night,” Mara jokes. “Not anymore, at least.”

Adora clutches her knees to her chest and rests her head on top of them. “Not anymore?” she asks, raising an eyebrow. 

Mara shrugs and glances at her before turning to look at the night sky. Her eyes are wide and a somber smile sits on her lips. “Let me guess, you’re here to punch out your feelings.” Mara looks directly at her and she nods back. “Yeah. I used to do that every night. It was the worst time of my life.”

“What happened?”

“No one told you?” Mara asks, amused.

“I’m nosy, but not that nosy.”

“Fair enough. You’ve seen the way the team’s split into the recruits and the walk-ons. It’s not like we  _ try _ to make this a big deal, but it just kind of happens.”

“Yeah, it’s kind of weird. The walk-ons like, have their own group chat and off-campus place and everything.”

Mara makes a face. “Yeah. I’m happy they have each other, at least. Did you know that I wasn’t recruited for Etheria?”

“Shit, really? But—”

“Yeah. I know. But yeah, no. I came here to study medicine, to take classes and prep for medical school. But I decided to join the team on a whim, thinking I’d really like it—and I did. I loved how strong it made me feel and it was nice to feel naturally good at something again, unlike the way my classes made me feel. My best friend from home, who actually came to Etheria with me, actually took me to the first informational meeting. Said I could use an outlet.”

“But something changed?” Adora asks. She stands up and fully sits on the bench.

“Yeah. I was good. Like,  _ really _ good,” Mara gives a halfhearted laugh. “I got placed on the starting lineup for the second game.”

“Holy shit.”

“The recruits were so mad. I know they talked to Micah and Angella about it, but they wouldn’t budge. So they just made my life as awful as they could, hoping I’d just walk on out of the team. They kept waiting for me to slip up, for me to somehow make them lose.”

“Did you?”

“Unfortunately for them, I never did. I was some phenomenal new talent that happened to be better at this sport than a bunch of recruits. 

“Every time they tried to throw something new at me, I kept up with it. Truth was, I wasn’t doing my schoolwork at all. I spent every night working at this sport. It felt great at first, you know? The soreness, the exhaustion?”

“It makes you feel like you’ve accomplished something,” Adora adds in. 

“But at what cost?” Mara sighs and drops her head into her hands. Her braid falls to one side, dangling limply. “I stopped seeing any of the few friends I had made in the beginning of the year. Stopped seeing Hope, even though we’d promised we’d be there for each other. I barely slept. I didn’t really talk to any of my teammates. I figured, why does it matter? They’ll have to respect me at some point if I kept helping them win.

“So we kept winning and winning. Each win felt like a shot, and I was becoming an alcoholic. My life started to slip away as the season progressed, and I spent day and night living and breathing rugby, terrified that I’d fuck up in a game, and I was determined to make sure no one could say  _ anything _ to me.”

Mara pauses and looks over at Adora, a few tears brimming at the edge of her eyelids. “It was the worst time of my life. I didn’t even have a life at all, Adora.”

“Why’d you do it?” Adora asks, afraid of the answer.

“I thought it was what I wanted,” Mara answers. “More accurately, it was what I thought other people wanted of me. I didn’t think what I wanted matters.”

“But it does,” Adora whispers. 

“Didn’t feel like it. All I wanted was to belong, to have people who would have my back. The recruits sure didn’t—heck, they’d actively go out of their way to try and stab me.”

“Sounds like military academy.”

“Yeah, it was pretty bad. And the walk-ons...well, why would they like me? I was on the starting lineup and I just made them look bad. It was never my intention to, but...it didn’t matter. I felt so alone, and I hated it. 

“Then one day, Hope died.

“When I heard the news, heard that she’d gotten into an accident one night while driving to the store, I just...I lost it,” Mara sniffles gently and rubs her eyes. “Sorry. It’s just. Hard to talk about.”

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“No, I think it’s important that you know,” Mara says, wiping her face. “I hid in my room for the next few weeks and no one, absolutely  _ no one _ came by. I thought I was alone before, but this...this was complete isolation. 

“I should’ve seen it coming. We’d grown up together. We’d spent every waking moment together in middle school and high school, and my God, we were elated when we heard that we would be going to the same school. She lived across the hall, for fuck’s sake.”

Mara looks straight at Adora. “Mara doesn’t make mistakes. She never has. She didn’t want to be here, and I couldn’t see it until it was too late, because I was too busy sacrificing my entire life for this sport.”

“I’m so sorry, Mara.”

“Don’t be,” she sighs. “She’s gone now, and there’s nothing I can do to bring her back. It’s just...I don’t blame myself for her death anymore, but I’m ashamed that it took something so drastic as that  to get me to come to my senses.”

Mara flicks a branch at a dummy and it bounces off with no effort. “With her gone, I didn’t know what I was doing anymore. Nothing made sense to me anymore. There was nothing I wanted to do. Everything was just an obligation, just something I had to do. I didn’t want any of it.”

“All this time, I’d been spending so much of my energy trying to garner the approval of teammates who would ultimately never respect me, anyways. I wasn’t assertive or confident, just a suck-up. I was trying to get people to like me by doing things for them. It was nothing like I’d had with Hope, who was the only person who actually treated me like a person. She never took advantage of my passiveness. She cares about me for me, and loved me for me.”

Mara picks a dying flower from the ground. The roots come with it and dirt flakes off of them. “I miss her a lot. I usually visit her grave every weekend. I don’t believe in the afterlife, but standing by her tombstone, telling her about everything happening calms me down. There’s not a day that goes by that I wish she were here. I know she’d be proud of me.

“The team’s changed a lot since then. Most of the assholes who tormented me graduated. I took a few months off from the sport, really let myself meet more people, find my family again. I don’t think I’ll ever find family like Hope ever again, but I don’t ever want to replace her.”

She makes a face. “I also think the first Haus catching on fire had to do with the other girls’ attitude changes.” Mara drops the flower onto the ground. “But more importantly, I wanted to tell you this story because I see myself in you, and I need you to know that you’re more than what you can do for other people.”

Mara grabs her hand. “You deserve love too, Adora. And all of us, I promise, are so, so happy to give it. You’ve already earned it, just by being you. So let yourself have it.”

Adora sniffles and squeezes Mara’s hand. “Thanks for telling me all that. I just—”

“I know it’s hard to believe it. I know you’ve been taught the opposite. I see you, Adora, I see that you’re hurting, but you’re getting better. You’re getting so much better, every day. I think Catra has something to do with that, too, you know?”

“Can I tell you something?” Adora blurts.

“Sure, go ahead.”

“Catra says she loves me, and I told her that I couldn’t continue hooking up, but...but I also love her.” Adora’s heart leaps down her throat, telling her to take back the words, but they’ve already been said, and there’s no going back. A flood of relief and anxiety both wash over her at the same time.

Mara smiles at her. “How does it feel to finally say it out loud?”

“It’s fucking terrifying,” Adora admits. “I hate it.”

“I’m proud of you.” Mara sets a hand on Adora’s shoulder. “Go to bed, Adora. You need some rest. And remember—” Mara stands up. “—you deserve love too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> one of the hardest parts about writing is making sure characters feel real, and writing fic adds this layer of trying to capture the character you're given. we want to make sure we keep elements of characters that make them recognizable, even in alternate universes, because ultimately, that's why we read fic, in my mind. we read fic because we love the characters, and we want to see more of what they have to offer. i hope i've done them justice in this chapter - it was definitely one of the hardest to write. in some of my earlier drafts of this chapter, i found myself writing these characters out of character or with such little nuance to them. Every day in their lives changes them little by little in some way shape or form, and what i really wanted to capture in this chapter was this return to old habits with a twist. i hope i've captured it, and i hope you enjoyed reading this chapter as much as i've loved writing it.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we are approaching the end, my friends. thank you all for sticking by. this is a relatively short chapter, but emotionally, one of the most important.

“Fucking finally,” says Adora, closing the ten tabs open on her browser after turning in her lab report for Advanced Fluids. 

She opens a new window and finds some tapes of some previous games. Her eyes flick back and forth between the two videos on her screen. On the left is footage from her Horde days, from when she played much more aggressively. On the right is her most recent game with Etheria. She’s been staring at this tape for the past hour, meticulously studying both fields and their plays over and over again. 

She knows that physically, she and the whole team is at the peak of their athleticism. Micah and Angella held nothing back this week, not with a game with such high stakes coming up. But she’s worried about the mental game more than anything, knowing full well that playing against Horde isn’t going to be like playing against Dartmouth, against Quinnipiac, against any of the other teams in their tier. No, she has history with this team, and no doubt, tomorrow, she’s going to run into none other than her old coach. 

Adora sucks in a breath as she watches her past self talk to Weaver during half-time. It’s obvious to her now that the strange expression on her face was nothing short of terror, guilt, and fear. 

“It gets better, I promise,” Adora whispers at the screen as video-Adora kicks at the grass in frustration. 

She knows the Horde. She knows that they hit hard, that they do not hold anything back during their games. She also knows that they tend to burn out quickly.

And yet, according to the statistics, Horde is currently tied with Etheria within the league at first place. It worries her; what if they aren’t strong enough to go against them? What if coming to Etheria made her weak? Are they going to be able to win any of the scrums? Is any of her knowledge about Horde helpful at all anymore?

She sighs and slumps over her laptop. She closes her eyes and leans back, lying down in Glimmer’s plush carpet.

“You alright, dude?” Glimmer asks her, plucking an earbud out of her own ear.

“Yeah, yeah,” Adora responds, sinking into the carpet. “I’m just nervous about tomorrow.”

Glimmer’s eyes soften. “Yeah. It’s going to be okay, though. We’re going to quash them.”

“I hope so.” Adora sits up and scans the numbers again. “It’s just. I don’t know what to expect from them anymore. It’s been so long since I’ve been with them, you know?” She turns towards the window and pauses.  _ She can do this. She can say how she’s feeling. _ “I’m worried that I’m going to just freeze up or something tomorrow.”

“Because of Coach Bitch?” Glimmer asks without making Adora’s admission a big deal.

Adora nods with a thin-lipped smile. “Yeah, mostly. It’s not that I can’t stand up to her or anything. She—” Adora balls her hands up in fists and grimaces. “When she’s around, I just turn into the worst version of myself. She makes me feel small, even though I know I’m not, and then I get really defensive and I don’t act like someone I’m proud of.” She sighs. “I know she has no real power over me. Not anymore. I’m worried I’m going to be like that tomorrow. You guys have seen the worst of me on the field already, and I really,  _ really _ can’t go back to doing that.”

“You won’t,” Bow says, placing a hand on her shoulder. “You’ve grown so much, Adora. And you have us, and the whole team. This time, you’re not alone.”

“We’ve got your back.”

Adora smiles. “You guys,” she gushes, wrapping her arms around her best friends. “I love you guys so much.”

“We love you too,” Bow says. “We love having you on the team. It makes you so happy to play.”

She feels like she should be crying from all the emotions welling up inside her, but it’s hard to let anything flow from her eyes. Hearing that she’s  _ wanted _ , not just  _ needed _ on the team, in their family, is everything she could ever ask for. The warmth encapsulates her and wraps her in a cozy embrace. 

Adora lies back down on the plush carpet. She knows now better than ever that rugby is a team sport. She knows that it’s the team that ultimately carries any victory or loss, and that a bad game doesn’t mean that the team is bad. She  _ knows _ that regardless of whatever happens in tomorrow’s game, this past season has been great, that the team is amazing, that they’ve worked hard for this. 

But if they win…

It would mean that transferring to Etheria was the right choice both for her personal growth and her athletic growth.

It would mean that she’s stronger when she’s with people she loves and who love her.

It would mean that she can have faith in herself and her choices. 

It would mean that despite the years of torment and abuse, she was able to find herself, to grow, and most of all, to find happiness.

Losing wouldn’t mean that all that would be untrue, but winning would affirm it beyond a shadow of a doubt.

* * *

This is it. This is the game. These next eighty minutes will determine whether or not they progress onto the national tournament. Etheria’s never made it to nationals, ever, and this is the closest they’ve ever gotten to qualifying.

Adora numbly stands in her position, readying herself for the whistle. 

She watches Horde’s starting offensive line carefully, watching each of the girls’ reactions to the kickoff. Scorpia and Huntara hoist Netossa up so that she can catch the ball midair, but as soon as she lands back on the ground, she gets tackled. Bodies pile up on top of her, forming a messy ruck, but she releases the ball to Spinnerella, who grabs the ball and heads off. 

The first scrum gets called when Horde’s hooker slams Spinnerella into the ground and sends the ball flying forwards. It’s barely been two minutes, and already this game is looking like it’s going to be a lot more intense than any other game they’ve played this semester. 

Adora’s tempted to grab the ball, but she nods at Entrapta, who grabs it from the scrum instead, and accompanies her from a distance as she runs. It’s not long before another giant Horde girl dives headfirst into Entrapta’s abdomen. Entrapta throws the ball back towards her just as she falls.

Now that she’s actually playing against her old team, she’s realizing just how reckless they are. A headfirst dive like that could’ve broken Entrapta’s hip if it had been misplaced, or even broken the diver’s neck. It’s an incredibly dangerous move, one that even Adora usually refused to do. These tackles, these moves are somehow so much  _ worse _ now than they were when she was with them. What happened?

She pushes her way forward, through a weaker back who attempts to tackle her, but a few forwards join the back and pull her down. Adora moves to release the ball, but another girl jumps on top of her, pinning her arms down so that she physically can’t release the ball, and the ref calls a penalty on Etheria.

“What the fuck?” she mouths at Scorpia, who stands a few yards away from her. Scorpia just shrugs.

They form yet another scrum, and this time, Adora keeps a close eye on the prop that tackled Entrapta. Etheria wins the scrum again, and as Entrapta goes to fish the ball out, the prop lunges at her, and Adora moves before realizing she does, and takes the impact for Entrapta instead.

Adora groans loudly as the prop’s shoulder bashes her in the side. Tears well in her eyes, but she bites down hard and stands back up. The other girl gets up and rubs her head, grimacing. 

Have they been playing all their games like this this season? This is dangerous for  _ everyone _ on the field, not just the players involved. This absolutely cannot be legal. Surely she can’t be the only one noticing this. None of the girls look particularly pleased about what they’re doing; they all have the same look of fierce determination in their eyes, but besides that, there’s...nothing.

It’s  _ terrifying. _

Her first game with Etheria...she was playing just like these girls are playing now. She was brutal, bulldozing anyone in her way, with no concern for anyone but the game.

How did anyone have the patience not to beat the living daylights out of her? She literally dislocated a girl’s shoulder and gave Catra a concussion by playing like this. She makes a mental note to fully apologize to Catra later for this, among...the many other things she has to tell her.

Maybe she’s gone soft. But if being “soft” means she’ll play the sport properly and safely, then she doesn’t care. This should be fun for people, not something that they risk their necks for. It’s not war. It’s not the army. This space is supposed to be the outlet for these girls, not just another obligation.

Holy shit.

It sickens her that these girls are essentially being taught that they themselves are expendable. If one of them gets hut, they have another player who is just as willing to throw themselves into the game at the cost of their health. A spark of rage rumbles in Adora’s chest, slowly burning hotter and hotter as she runs along the field. No one should get hurt because of Horde’s miseducation and abuse of these players. Right then, Horde scores a try and the whistle blows, and Glimmer runs by her as they get back into position. 

“Adora, stop jumping in front of people,” Glimmer tells her. “We got it. Please don’t hurt yourself.”

“But—”

“We’ll be okay. I promise.”

Adora sighs. There’s no arguing with Glimmer on this. She knows that Glimmer is right, too, that taking the hits for her teammates isn’t healthy in any way shape or form, it’s just that she’s capable of taking them, and she’d rather—

“I can literally hear you thinking,” Glimmer says again. “We don’t want you to. So please, don’t.”

“Okay,” Adora responds, finally. She nods at Glimmer. “Okay.”

As the ball kicks off, Adora examines the girls again, focusing this time more on their behavior than on the ball itself, resisting the urge to use herself as a meat shield for her teammates. They don’t react instantly this time—they almost seem to lag a little in their step. She runs along their offensive line to get a better look at them. Her own team is always on them, making sure to get in their way as much as they can to force them to pass—and they do, but with so much hesitation and in a very familiar, messy way that Adora nearly smacks herself for not realizing it sooner.

When she was with Horde, she knew that above all, Weaver’s training was focused on power and intimidation. Her old coach was so set on playing mind games with the other players, disabling them in an emotional manner that she never trained her students in the more meta-game skills such as reading the field. It’s only after coming to Etheria that she revived those skills. Unfortunately for these girls, they don’t intimidate her, and they’re an open book. They don’t care much for actual teamwork; they’ll pass when they need to, they’ll move to get out of each others’ way, but they don’t move in the same fluid way that her own team’s been practicing.

“Rent!” Adora yells out. For a moment, she’s worried that her teammates can’t hear her or won’t know what she’s trying to tell them, but she notices Glimmer’s eyes, well, glimmer, and she can’t stop the smile that comes to her face right then and there. 

If the other team was half as focused on the actual field layout as they were on intimidation and physical force, they’d see the giant opening by the sidelines. It’s not blatantly undefended, but for Etheria’s backs, this is a no-brainer.

They score the try less than a minute after that, much to her old team’s chagrin.

The next play is won with a simple call of “Waitress!”, and the next “Heathers!”

She makes a mental note to remind Bow that he’s an absolute genius later.

This game no longer feels so...daunting the way it was in her head just a few hours ago. Now that the reality of the situation has sunk in and she’s processed her surroundings, this is an easy game, as long as they keep up with any of the adjustments that Horde is undoubtedly going to make. It’s a game of chess against a toddler, really, no personal offense to the individual players. The pieces themselves are terrifying and incredibly great at what they do, but the “mastermind” behind each move relies on little other than temper tantrums to get their way.

With her head and her heart in sync again, Adora breathes for real this time, and runs to make these next few minutes the best rugby plays in her life.

* * *

She definitely spoke too soon. She thought that the rest of the day would go perfectly smoothly with the initial shock of playing against her old team behind her, but...of course...

“Well, if it isn’t Adora,” says an all-too-familiar voice, right behind her. Chills run down Adora’s spine at the rough voice she still hears in her nightmares. She swears that the atmospheric pressure completely dropped right there and then.

Adora puts her water bottle back into her backpack, ignoring Weaver as best as she can.

“Go away,” says another voice behind her. “You’re not welcome here.”

“Are you really going to stop me from seeing one of my former students?” 

Pause. Shuffle. “Actually, yes.”

Adora whips around and very nearly bumps into Huntara, who flashes her a soft grin. Scorpia stands next to her, facing the dark-haired demon. Trying to get readjusted, she makes the fatal mistake of making eye contact with her.

Weaver scoffs and steps forward, but Huntara and Scorpia physically block her from coming towards her. “Excuse me,” Weaver says, raising an eyebrow and fixing her gaze onto Adora. 

“She doesn’t want to talk to you,” Scorpia says, taking a step closer to Weaver until they’re face to face. 

“Well, Adora can make that choice for herself, can she not?” Weaver coos, her eyes meeting Adora’s again. She lifts a claw and beckons her. “Come, child, do you not wish to talk to me?”

She could take the bait. She could very easily turn around and yell at Weaver, tell her to fuck off, tell her that she’s a piece of shit...but what would it do? Weaver is unredeemable in any way shape or form; she exists only to cause pain, to manipulate, and she has never shown any intention of bettering herself or taking accountability for any of the harm she caused. There’s no real reason other than momentary personal joy in shouting at her.

But she looks around and sees the family she’s found. She sees the teammates who love her, who support her, and who push her to be a better person. She’s come a long way since first joining the team. Is it worth shoving that all aside just to sneer at Weaver?

It’s not that Weaver doesn’t deserve it. There’s most definitely a special place in hell reserved for her. It would just be exhausting, trying to argue with someone who refuses to admit they are wrong or harmful, especially since Weaver would know exactly how to twist her own words against her.

Adora looks up and gives a curt smile. “Actually, I think I’m good,” she says, and she walks away. 

She almost wishes she stayed to see Weaver’s face drop at that moment, but the weight in her chest lifts and a cathartic, cleansing wave washes through her. Maybe, in another universe, she would’ve caved into her desire, but she’s happy with the choice she made. She doesn’t need to talk to Weaver to know she’s moved on. Her closure doesn’t need to come from Weaver directly; she’d  _ never _ be able to move on if she tried to get it.

Adora can still hear Scorpia and Huntara talking to Weaver, telling her to go away. It’s a good thing she opened up a little more about her experiences back in the Horde. It makes her vulnerable, but it also makes her all the stronger.

Etheria is about the family and caring for one another more than anything else. It’s what makes them strong, both inside and outside of games. It’s what keeps them motivated to do better, to  _ be _ better, as players and as people, to each other.

To themselves.

Something shifts inside of Adora right there and then, and instantly she feels a mental fog clear. All the pieces in her head suddenly click together and she immediately knows what she needs to do.

The missing piece, the keystone, it was self-respect.

It’s what’s at the core of everything Etheria stands for. It’s why they make such a good family. It’s why everything works the way it does here. It’s why her teammates won’t let her keep using herself as a bodyguard. It’s why they remind her that she’s  _ wanted _ on the team more than she is needed.

(Though, her physical strength and skill  _ does _ make her absolutely invaluable on the field, she can’t lie, but they’d be fine without her. Probably.)

This. This is what Mara was trying to tell her. This is why Catra was so upset. 

She feels herself grow larger, grow stronger with every step she takes away from Weaver right now. This is what she owes herself. She respects herself too much to put herself into context with someone as terrible for her as Weaver.

Is this...pride? In herself?

It’s a new feeling, but one she likes, Adora decides. It’s something she plans on feeling more often.

* * *

Now that she looks at it again, the lawn flamingos aren’t _ that _ creepy in the dark. She crosses the street and walks up the driveway, a little basket of cookies in hand. It’s the least she could do, given how much work the girls put in for these parties. 

A car pulls up to the driveway and its headlights shine over the bright pink monstrosities. All seven pairs of eyes glow eerily in the night and immediately a shiver runs down Adora’s spine. She turns her head away and quickly makes her way to the door, avoiding any and all eye contact with the plastic birds.

She goes to knock and someone inside yells back “it’s open!” She swings open the door and she’s immediately greeted by the scent of shitty vodka and cheap cranberry juice, all topped with a little hint of weed. 

“Adora! Thought you weren’t coming!” Glimmer jokes, punching her in the arm lightly. “Not like you to be late to things.”

Adora returns a grin. “Excuse me, I hear I’m actually ‘on time’. Besides, you can’t be mad at me, I brought cookies!”

Her friend smacks her lightly. “Dude, I  _ told _ you not to bring anything!”

“I couldn’t help it! I had an extra fifteen minutes!”

Glimmer rolls her eyes and smiles anyways. “Come on, we can put it in the kitchen.” She grabs Adora’s hand and pulls her towards the kitchen—which, at this point, has become more of a dysfunctional laboratory—where a few of the other girls are.

“Hey, Adora’s here!” Frosta says, beaming and running over to her.

“Cookies!” Scorpia yells, running towards them. “Thanks, Adora!” She gently takes the basket from Adora and excitedly runs off. 

“Do you want some jungle juice?” Frosta offers, stirring the huge plastic tub with a ladle. “This time, Perfuma was in charge.”

Adora shakes her head. “Nah, I’m good. Do we have anything without alcohol?”

The freshman quirks an eyebrow at her. “Staying sober for a haus party? Good for you. Yeah, there’s some flavored seltzer water in the fridge.” She frowns. “Or maybe downstairs, in the basement. I don’t know, Mermista said something earlier, and I kind of forgot.”

She nods at the younger girl and heads off. “Thanks, Frosta.”

It’s not that she doesn’t trust herself around alcohol. She just has other things on her mind right now, and she wants to be sober and genuine for all of it. No liquid courage. No nothing.

Adora takes a bottle of Izze’s and heads to the basement, where the whole team is dancing and scream-singing. It’s hot and sticky, and a song she now recognizes as Mr. Brightside loudly blasts from the speakers in the corners. She’s instantly reminded of the first time she came down here, and a wave of phantom intoxication hits her before a sip of her cool drink reminds her just how sober and sharp she is right now. It’s nice, actually, being sober and feeding off of the goofy energy that her teammates are vibing off of right now. She scans the mini-mosh pit for one specific girl, but even after a few thorough searches, she can’t seem to spot her.

Catra literally lives in this house. She is literally on this team. She should not be this elusive. Literally, where the fuck could she—

There she is, descending the steps in that familiar leather jacket, makeup neatly and very effectively accentuating every beautiful feature of her face. Adora’s breath hitches in her throat. How could one person be so lovely? She very nearly drops her bottle, and if it weren’t for the very conveniently placed pool table, she  _ knows _ the whole team would’ve been on her ass about a fine.

She watches her as she walks through the basement, expertly weaving between people, somehow managing to bump fists with everyone. Catra seems to notice everyone; that is, everyone except for her.

It’s almost silly, how much Adora would  _ beg _ for Catra to notice her right now. How pathetic would it be if she were to walk over to her?

She’s never been quite this enchanted by Catra. Maybe it’s the realization that she really does love her, that now, there are no excuses why Adora can’t just tell her the truth. Maybe it’s the universe telling her that this is her moment, and that she needs to move now before she loses it again.

A Haus party isn’t the proper setting for a talk like the talk they need to have, but...but it could be a start. After everything, she owes her that much. 

She follows her heart for once, and her feet obey, and they drag her towards the only person she can see in the room right now, and when their eyes finally meet, it feels like a prophetic destiny they’d been fated to share. 

“Hey,” Adora manages to croak out, her voice cracking ever so slightly as her eyes well up. 

Catra seems just as mesmerized as her, and after a moment of silence, she gives her a soft smile. 

“Hey, Adora.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> although this fic was born out of my personal fascination with rugby and with my own knowledge of messy college relationships, it's more than that. the show does a phenomenal job showing how complicated catra is, and i love it for that. but this story is not about catra's trauma, and it's not about their love; it's about adora, her trauma, and it's about her relationship with...well, herself. I admit, i didn't come into writing this story with much more thought than "haha rugby fic haha friends with benefits go brr" but when i sat down and really thought about the story i wanted to tell, it made sense to have this fic be about adora's trauma that needs to be addressed by the end of the show. 
> 
> i fucking hate shadow weaver, but she has a singular decent point: "this is just the beginning for you."
> 
> we have one more chapter. i wrote most of it while on an airplane on my phone. stay tuned for the end!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is it.

The kitchen quickly smells of sweet berry filling and buttery dough once they get working. There’s still some uncertainty regarding ratios and specific amounts, thanks to Razz’s incredibly vague recipe, but at least the internet has plenty of people with grandmothers who bake lovely pies. By this point, making the filling has basically become second nature to Adora, and of course, Catra’s already got the dough in the fridge.

“I still can’t believe how fast you do that,” Adora says, stirring the filling, which is slowly but surely thickening up.

“It’s pretty great, I know,” Catra responds as she shuts the fridge door.

As it turns out, a party full of a bunch of drunk college kids isn’t the best setting to have a serious talk, but at least they were on talking terms again. Adora wasn’t really sure where they’d be after...all that, so when Catra suggested that she come over to the Haus to bake the final pie for their project, it just made sense to save the conversation for later.

She’d ended up leaving the party a little earlier than usual instead, and had stayed up writing out what she wanted to tell Catra. Of course, now that she’s here, standing in the kitchen, less than five feet away from her, her mind goes completely blank. It’s only now that she checks her pockets and remembers that in the mad rush of carrying over all the baking supplies, she forgot to bring the “script” she’d spent half the night writing.

Maybe it’s better to keep it genuine, though, instead of reading off of a piece of paper. After a little contemplation, she gathers enough words on the tip of her tongue to start the conversation.

“So I lied,” she blurts out, instantly regretting them the moment they leave her lips.

“What?” Catra furrows her eyebrows as she washes her hands in the sink.

“Sorry, I, um—“ Her mind goes blank again. She really should’ve brought that script. She takes a breath and continues to stir the filling. “Okay. So you know, like, when you like, told me you were like, in love with me?” she babbles, wincing when she senses Catra stiffen. 

“Yeah, okay, what about it?”

“And I basically said I couldn’t because of rugby and shit, and like, then I said I needed you, and like, you know. You were there.” Pause. “Anyways, so, like, um, well, what I mean by I lied is like, well, it’s not  _ really _ lying, I guess, it’s—”

“Oh my god, Adora, spit it out,” Catra says impatiently. 

“Sorry! Sorry. What I’m trying to say is, no, I don’t need you.”

Adora waits for Catra to react positively, but instead, finds the other girl patting her hands dry even more aggressively than before. Did she say something wrong? Wasn’t that the whole reason Catra had been angry at her?

“Okay, so you don’t need me,” Catra says dryly. “Great. Thanks for telling me. I really appreciate that.”

“Wait, I—” Adora grimaces and lowers the heat on the filling when it starts smoking and bubbling a  _ little _ too vigorously. “I don’t think I said what I mean properly.”

“What are you trying to say?”

Her chest clenches and her heart climbs up her throat, lodging itself right into her vocal cords. She closes her eyes and hones in on her breathing. She’s been vulnerable before. She knows Catra cares about her. She knows Catra loves her. She can do this. There is literally nothing she can lose by being honest. Except, well—

Her throat opens up a sliver and she grabs the moment before it’s gone. “I want you,” she says hastily, and this time, Catra looks over at her for the first time since they started working. “I mean that I don’t  _ need _ you, but I want you. I want to know you.”

Slowly, with each passing moment, her chest releases itself, and she feels her throat open up fully. “I’ve loved spending time with you and getting to know you these past few months, learning what makes you tick, watching the way you light up when you get excited about something, I just—” Adora smiles. “I love you too.” She finally says, and her smile grows even wider. 

She did it. She admitted it. She said it out loud, not to someone else, but to Catra, who deserves to know most of all, and she finally, she  _ finally _ feels like the last brick in the foundation has been set. She looks over at Catra, who looks like she’s both about to cry and laugh.

“That might have been the most eloquent thing I’ve ever heard you say,” Catra snorts. “Maybe you should write our report instead. But my god, you are so  _ shit _ at talking about your feelings.”

Adora groans, but she lets out a soft chuckle. “I know, I know. My therapist tells me I’m getting better but it’s still so hard.”

“But I can see that you’re trying.” Catra walks up towards her and hugs her from behind and rests her head against the back of Adora’s shoulder. Adora relaxes her body a little, craving the warmth. “I see you. I see how far you’ve come. I know it’s not easy for you.”

“Thanks, that really means a lot.”

“I guess that begs the question, then...what do you want?”

“You,” Adora says immediately. 

“Ugh, I know that,” Catra groans. “You’re such an idiot. I mean, what do you want to do about it?”

Adora turns the heat off of the saucepan and puts it on a separate burner to cool. She turns around and cradles Catra’s face with her hands, running her fingers down the sides and stopping when her thumbs meet Catra’s cheekbones. She looks at Catra, really, really looks at her, taking note of the way Catra’s eyes are shining with joy right now, how warm her expression is, and leans in, meeting her lips once again.

It’s something they’ve done a million times, but this time, Adora embraces the tug of her heartstrings, letting herself fall into Catra’s embrace instead of recoiling from her own emotional response. Her head screams at her to run, to protect herself, but she keeps moving forward, keeps breaking through those walls she put up for herself, and Adora realizes then and there just how much she was holding back. She has an entire bank full of love to give, and this time, she has faith that it will be received with the same amount of love.

It’s fucking terrifying, putting her whole heart out there and not know what might happen to it. But it has to be worth it. There’s been nothing in her life like the feeling in her heart right now. She has known no greater beauty and warmth than the look on Catra’s face just now. There was nothing in the script that could’ve predicted this, and at this point, the contents of the script slowly fade away, the words burning away from the paper back home.

“I love you,” Adora tells her when they pull apart. “I know I’m not perfect, and I know I have a lot to tell you, but I want this, I want an us, if you’ll have me.”

Catra lays a hand on Adora’s upper chest and gives her a soft peck on the corner of her mouth. “I want this too. We can go however slow you need.”

“It was never about rugby,” Adora admits. “It just—trauma is complicated.”

“Adora,” Catra strokes her face and tucks her hair behind her ear. “I know. It’s okay.” She hugs Adora then, and Adora really believes that maybe, maybe she will be okay.

“I’ve got you,” Catra murmurs. “I’m not letting go.”

“You might have to,” Adora whispers back, softly stroking Catra’s hair. “I need to take a shit.”

Catra breaks away and shoves her playfully. “Oh my fucking god. Fucking go to the bathroom. Oh my fucking god.”

* * *

Adora hesitates for a moment before knocking on the door. 

“Come in!” she hears, and she opens the door.

In the corner of the room, her captain stands by her desk, leaning against the wall by the window. It’s a very homely room, the walls painted a warm cream and adorned with photographs containing people who Adora presumes are Mara’s friends and family. A few empty command hooks hang around the top of the room, and a tail end of some space-themed fairy lights sticking out of the closet.

Most notable, though, is the bed. The frame is a pretty standard college student’s Ikea bed, but the sheets feature a large unicorn with wings of all sorts of colors and various bright colors emanating from the tip of its horn. 

“I, uh, like your sheets,” Adora stammers. “Very,” she gestures vaguely and twists her face as she searches for the word.

Mara just gives a curt laugh and walks towards her. “Don’t worry, I won’t be offended. They’re cute but they’re not my usual.” Mara sits down on the bed briefly and strokes the unicorn’s face. “I like to bring these out when I’m particularly missing Hope,” she says, smiling sadly. “Or when it’s laundry day.”

“Is it laundry day today?”

“It is. Glimmer’s been hogging the washing machines for the past week, and my other sheets were getting gross.”

Adora awkwardly leans against the doorframe and looks at Mara, who still sits on the bed, staring at the unicorn. She coughs, trying to catch her attention. “So...”

“Oh! Right!” Mara stands up. “Come on in. I’m sure you know what this is about.”

Adora raises an eyebrow at her. “Uh, no, not really. Is something up?”

“I’m giving you my dibs,” Mara says. “I want you to have my room in the Haus next year.”

Shocked, Adora stares at the corners of the room, fixating on the one crooked command hook by the window. “I—why me?”

Her captain walks towards her and places her hands on her shoulders. Her warm eyes meet Adora’s, instantly enveloping her in tranquility. “You make this team stronger by being a part of it, and I think living in this Haus will bring it even closer.

“I’ve seen you grow so much in just one semester. Normally, dibs are given at the end of the year, but if I’m being honest with you...” Mara leans in. “I made up my mind a long time ago, and I’m very sick of these freshmen trying to suck up to me for this room.”

Mara lets go of her and Adora takes a closer look at the room. Adora touches the wall, grazing the paint with her fingertips. “It’s just the end of the first semester.”

Mara shrugs. “I know. Something just told me that you should be this room’s next occupant. Besides,” Mara walks towards the door. “Catra’s room is right next to this one,” she whispers. 

Taken aback, Adora jerks upright and gives Mara a panicked look. “I—we—we’re taking it slow.” Mara raises an eyebrow. “For now,” she adds.

“I’m messing with you,” Mara laughs. “But it should come in handy later. After all, you have a whole semester before you move in.”

“I’ll try not to fuck it up.”

“I don’t think you will,” Mara says confidently. Her gaze meets Adora’s again, this time filled with earnest and something that fills Adora with both determination and hope.

“I’m proud of you, Adora,” she tells her, her soft eyes smiling at her. “I’m glad you’re with us.”

“I’m glad I’m here too,” Adora says gently. She sniffs and feigns a cough, trying not to cry. 

“This is just the beginning for you,” Mara tells her, cradling her hands. “There’s so much good coming for you. I know it.”

Adora basically throws herself at Mara and wraps her arms around her, and this time, she doesn’t choke anything back. She lets the happy tears roll down her cheeks and lets Mara hold her too. When she pulls away, Mara wipes at the corner of her eye as well. 

“Well, dibs are only official if we shake on it,” Mara says, sticking out her hand. “Is this what you want?”

“Yeah, it is.” She immediately takes Mara’s hand firmly and they shake. “It’s what I want.”

Her captain grins at her. “Good. You deserve it.”

“Thanks, Mara.” She starts heading out of the room. Just as she steps out of the doorway, she turns her head back to her captain. “For everything.”

* * *

  
  


Their presentation doesn’t fall short of anything but spectacular. It goes exactly as planned, their slides are immaculate, and most importantly, everyone is absolutely loving their berry pie.

“This has got to be the best berry pie I’ve ever had,” Octavia says between bites. “My god. Your grandmother Razz really is something.”

Adora chuckles. “Yeah, she was a little crazy, but she knew her baking. Though it’s thanks to Catra we were even able to decipher her handwriting at all.”

Catra nudges her with her elbow. “Come on, you know this was a team effort. We couldn’t have done it without your meticulous research, either.”

“Or your baking skills.”

“Alright, alright,” Octavia chuckles. “I think we get the picture. Thank you, Adora and Catra, for a lovely presentation.” She looks down at the pie. “And for the...Razz berry pie.”

Adora gasps and looks at Catra, who just groans at Octavia. “Don’t groan,” Adora scolds her. “That was a fantastic pun.”

“Of course you think so,” Catra teases. “You’ve got the sense of humor of a twelve-year-old.”

“Hah, well,” Adora starts and leans in closer to her when they sit down. “Peepee poopoo.” Catra bursts out laughing, and Adora pokes her playfully. “Who’s immature now?”

Their classmates present their projects as well, and for students with access to little other than shit dormitory kitchens, they made really impressive goods. At least, according to Catra, who shoves the last piece of banana bread into her mouth as they walk out of the building.

“Come on, it can’t be that good,” Adora says as Catra chews blissfully. 

“You’re just jealous because you didn’t get any.”

“I could’ve gotten some whenever I wanted!”

“Mmhm,” Catra says, reaching for Adora’s hand. “Sure.” 

They lace their fingers together and walk down the path through the quad. Though Adora doesn’t really care for winter, she admits that there is something alluring about the snow blanketing the whole green. Snowflakes collected on the ends of the branches into snowy little flowers, adding a little extra winter glamour to the schoolyard. 

Catra’s hands are colder than hers, but Adora doesn’t mind; hers tend to run warm, anyways. It’s what made Catra’s hands so much better for making the pie crust. Besides, as an engineer, she can’t help but appreciate the beauty of their hands slowly reaching thermal equilibrium when they’re together. She doesn’t believe in fate, but...she’d like to think this is one of the signs they’re good together, among the others.

Adora almost wishes that the project wasn’t over. She’s relieved that everyone loved the pie, that her love for Razz really translated into the project, but there’s something about being in the kitchen together, working together on the same pie together that she’s really going to miss. Then again, they’re together now, and there’s plenty more pies in their future. Maybe. Hopefully.

“So…” Adora starts as they tread on the sidewalk. 

“Yeah?”

“When are you leaving for winter break?” 

“Hm.” Catra thinks for a moment and checks her phone. “In about six hours, it seems. I’m all packed up and ready to go.”

Adora whistles. “Damn.”

“What, are you going to miss me or something?” 

She smiles at Catra. “No, you fart too much.”

“Fuck you,” Catra shoves her. “Anyways. I’m going to be back at J-term soon enough.”

“Do you think you can spare like...an hour or so?”

Catra squeezes Adora’s hand and raises an eyebrow. “What do you have in mind?”

“You’ll see.”

* * *

“Come on, slowpoke,” Catra teases her, zooming around her in perfect circles. 

“Listen, I’m trying, okay!” Adora says, scooting forward on her skates, her hands outstretched in front of her for balance. Catra glides around her on the ice while Adora attempts to walk, barely staying on her feet the entire time. 

As it turns out, ice skating on a frozen pond is much better in theory when in practice, especially when Adora really thinks about it and realizes she hasn’t been on the ice in years. She pushes with one foot and glides a little on the other but wobbles. Meanwhile, Catra jumps into the air and does a few impressive moves next to her, her blades clearly an extension of her body instead of some foreign knife shoe stuck on her foot. 

“You sure you don’t want one of those sliding penguin things?” Catra teases her. 

“Fuck off,” Adora says, glaring at her. “Some of us weren’t figure skating champions of our junior league.”

“This was your idea, remember?” she says, skating over to her. “Besides, you told me you used to play hockey.”

“Yeah, when I was five!”

“That’s only like, fifteen years ago.”

“Almost sixteen!”

Catra rolls her eyes and skates towards her. She gently grabs Adora’s hands. “Come on,” she says softly, looking at Adora with enough love to melt the whole pond. “I got you. Hold onto me.”

She slowly glides backwards, and at first, Adora feels like she’s going to fall over, but Catra warmly smiles at her. “Straighten your feet. You’ll glide perfectly.” 

Adora listens, and she puts her faith into the blades beneath her feet, and as Catra keeps moving, she finds herself keeping her balance while gliding forward. “Holy shit,” she says, her eyes going wide. “I’m not falling on my ass!”

“I told you, I got you,” she says, starting to move a little faster, and Adora starts to feel a thrill from moving on ice. “Even you can do it.”

“I’m killing it,” Adora says, pushing forward a little, stumbling ever so slightly but quickly catching her balance again. She looks at Catra, who watches her fondly.

“Hey, what are you looking at me like that for?” Catra chuckles nervously. 

Adora takes a stronger stride and she kisses Catra as they glide across the ice. It’s a sweet moment, a moment she’ll log in her memory for years to come. It’s also a moment that only lasts for a couple of seconds before Adora’s weight shifts forward. She flails her arms a little and tips back, trying to regain balance, but she tips over and falls on her ass, pulling Catra down on top of her.

“Sorry, love,” Adora says, laughing gently as their noses brush. “That did not go as I planned.”

Catra feigns a pout but quickly smiles and kisses her nose. “You tried.”

“I tried.”

* * *

“So, Adora, what do you study?” Catra’s father asks from across the table. 

Adora clears her throat and straights her posture even more so than she already is. “I study mechanical engineering, sir,” she says, nodding at him politely. 

He scoops some peas onto his plate. “Between that and rugby, I’m surprised you have enough time for our daughter.”

She looks over at Catra, who silently chews her food. A few months ago, she would’ve assumed Catra was perfectly calm, but now, after really getting to know her, she can feel the barely-contained anxiety that makes her hand twitch. 

“It’s no problem, sir,” Adora says, wiping her mouth, “It’s easy to make time for those you love.”

Catra’s sister, Rhea, dramatically gags next to him. Her father glares at her. “What?” Rhea asks. “They’re being gross.”

“Deal with it,” Catra says nonchalantly. “Or do you want me to show Adora your second grade pictures?”

“Maybe I’ll show her your fifth grade pictures.”

Catra narrows her eyes at her sister, who narrows her own eyes in response. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“You sure about that?”

Their father clears his throat. “Come on, now, girls,” he says, glaring at both of them. “What makes you think  _ I _ wouldn’t show her?”

“Dad!”

He looks over at Adora and gives her a wide grin, which she returns. Catra’s father is a good guy. It’s clear that Catra gets her sense of humor from him. She loves that they’re close, that even after her mother’s death, he still manages to be a good father to them both. She knows from what Catra’s told her that he’s not perfect, but he does his best, which Adora admires. He’s confident, but he’s kind, and always willing to grow in a way Adora has never seen any adult do.

As they put their coats, Adora starts to follow Catra out of the door, but Catra’s father taps her shoulder and takes her aside. He’s not a tall man, but there’s something about the way he stands and holds his figure that slightly intimidates her.

“Yes, sir?” she asks, looking down, avoiding his eyes.

“I’m glad you and Catra are together,” he tells her, and her gaze immediately catches his. Again, in him she sees the same warm smile in his eyes that she sees in Catra. “You’re good for her.”

“T-thank you, sir,” she responds, the words catching in her throat a little. “She makes me happy. And I can only hope to make her as happy or happier than she makes me.”

He smiles at her and pats her shoulder. “I have never seen her like this in a long time. So thank you, Adora.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Okay, I will let you go outside to my daughter,” he says, and starts to walk away. “And Adora?”

She turns her head. “Yes, sir?”

“You can call me Julio,” he tells her.

Catra’s waiting patiently in the car when Adora gets to her and climbs into the passenger seat. “Hey.”

“Hi,” Adora says, buckling in her seatbelt “Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.” Catra starts driving, and Adora just watches the lights from the houses fade away little by little, until the only light is the headlights from the car. She doesn’t realize she’s fallen asleep until she feels the car lurch to a stop and she jolts awake. “Come on,” Catra says, exiting the car. 

She follows Catra outside and on top of the car, where she’s already laying. “Woah,” she says, watching the stars and the moon shine brightly in the clear sky. A few wisps of clouds ghost over them, but not enough to hide the celestial bodies.

“It’s pretty, isn’t it?” Catra says, and she lets out a soft sight. “I’d come here a lot when I was in high school. It would always calm me down.”

“What would you think about?” she asks, tracing some constellations with her eyes. 

“I’d sometimes make some wishes upon a star,” she admits. “But usually, I wouldn’t think about anything. Open space for clearing my head, you know?”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Do you ever wish for anything?” Catra asks softly.

Adora thinks for a moment and then shakes her head. “No, not anymore.” She turns her head towards Catra. “I have everything I need and want.”

Catra smiles and closes her eyes. “Me too.”

They stare up at the sky in silence together, encased in a blanket of tranquil comfort that they’ve knitted together for the past few months. They know their story has a lot more chapters. They know they’ve got a good amount of growing to do. But for now, it’s enough. As long as they’re together, as long as they hold onto who they are, they know they’ll be okay. 

They’ll be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> they are okay. this is just the beginning for them.
> 
> thank you, my darlings, for finishing this story. thank you for joining me on this journey. writing this fic has been a whole ass arc for me - I learned a lot about myself while writing it, and a lot has happened since i first started writing it. i will miss this universe, but i'm excited for more stories i want to tell about adora and catra. it means the world to me that you have all followed this story, and i know it is because of you that i kept wanting to write more. so thank you.
> 
> much love,   
> <3 beantow

**Author's Note:**

> the "Dub" may or may not be based on a 'beloved' dining hall at my school. hope y'all enjoyed!
> 
> dictionary of rugby terms in the best layman's terms i can make:  
> number 8 - extremely strong player, i kind of think of them as the "plow" for the team in 15s  
> flanker - number 6 and 7 in 15s; one of the 'forward' players, focused on tackling and taking ball from the opposition  
> 7s - a faster, shorter game of rugby, focused on speed, usually in spring for the NCAA  
> 15s - longer rugby game, endurance heavy, usually in fall for the NCAA (focus of this fic)


End file.
